KOTOR II: Accidental Hero
by BluEyedMalak
Summary: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords. Liran Ericho just wanted a little peace and quiet... Then Sith, bounty hunters, and needy civvies interrupted her exile. Snark, Sarcasm, cut content, and a little AU. Reviews are welcome.
1. Awaken

1Kotor 2

Yeaaaaaah, I'm creative with titles.

Kreia

It's almost time. Time to mold the little Jedi. Build her, high as she can go... then tear her to shreds. Make her love me, then betray her.

Her body is healed. Now it's time. Come, Exile. Dance to my puppet strings. _Awaken_...

Liran

_Awaken_.

Can't hear. Floating. Where am I? Distorted glass, thick liquid pressing against my eyes. That awful smell. Know that smell...

Kolto. Yuck. It's smelly and slimy and warm, reminds me too much of the triage centers in the war.

Have to get out of this healing tank. I can't bear the sensory deprivation much longer.

Press my hands around the top (I think it's the top. No sense of up or down), feel for the switch. There it is. _Whoosh_, now I can pull my head into real air, not oxygenated goop.

Deep breath. At first it's the sweetest I've ever tasted, but then it's musty, stale, with that tang of kolto.

Pull myself out. Oh, forgot about the disorientation thing. I'm wobbling on the edge, the tank pressed into my stomach (unpleasant). If I can swing a leg over the side...

_Splat_. Ow. Oh sweet gravity, how I have missed thee. You knock me on my shebs, and I just keep coming back for more. I must be addicted.

Open my eyes. This isn't the _Harbinger_.

Okay, I'm splayed on the cold floor, in my skivvies(just noticed), no idea where I am, or how I got here. There's a great story to go with this.

If I'm lucky, it involves copious amounts of alcohol, not slavers.

Stand up. It's freezing in here.

At least it isn't quiet. Hate silence. Lots of beeping, humming and bubbling of kolto tanks, hissing equipment. Four other tanks, all occupied. I'm the only one awake. Good. Hate people seeing me in my underwear. I hate a lot of things: darkness, jedi robes.

Oh, clothes. Should probably get some, unless I plan on joining a 'natural' colony. I don't.

One door, it opens at my touch. Not slavers, then. They frown on the merchandise running around.

A medbay, like on a ship, but inefficient. I'm planetside then. No people to ask. Out here, no sound either. That's wrong.

Two doors. One's locked, so, as Vandar would say; to the lab, I go.

After ten minutes of searching, I'm fresh out of cool, calm, _and_ collected, the medic's logs tell me nothing positive, and my legs are still feelin' the breeze. I did find my utility belt (minus credits. Shocker), looped it around my waist. Had this battered thing since the war.

Apparently, I'm not planetside. This is a mining station, hitched to the backside of Peragus II, and there is some spooky hokum going on. Work-related injuries, mining droids going berserk, mysterious explosions, malfunctions. Either mechanical gremlins decided to take over the place, or Peragus II has a saboteur aboard, Force knows why someone would bother with a pit like this.

Oh, it gets better. Someone pumped the kolto tanks with snooze juice, enough to kill a wookie. Everyone else died. I slept for three days. Saboteur was trying to wipe out the whole facility... or, if I want to be paranoid, knew about my talents and wanted me asleep for a while.

The exit to medbay is broken too. All I can unlock is the morgue. Walk in. Even colder in here.

Looting corpses? Yeah, real _Kandosii._ I'm not _that_ desperate for clothes, but maybe there's something useful...

No empty beds. The morgue is full. All in uniform, except one, an old woman. Let her be, fixate on one extremely unfortunate fellow on the corner slab. Burn victim, didn't even drop his plasma torch. I could use that torch to breach the medbay lockdown. This is going to be icky.

Curl my fingers around the torch, brushing brittle, scorched bone. I've touched worse. I see why the miners let him keep it. He's _very_ attached to this tool.

After a minute of tugging, I give up all pretenses of dignity(those I have left after looting corpses in my undies), brace my foot against the slab, and put my scrawny shebs into it. The fingers snap, fragments of bone pepper my face and chest. I fall back on aforementioned scrawny shebs. Gravity, I love you with all my heart, but we _have_ to stop like this.

"Find what you're searching for amongst the dead?"

Scramble to my feet, brandish the recently liberated plasma torch, ready to strike at the-.

Hooded old woman smirking at me from her seat on a morgue slab.

"Who are you?" Need to talk out loud more. Starting to sound scratchy from disuse. A side effect of hermithood. Er, hermitism? Hermitry? Never mind.

"I am Kreia, and I am your rescuer, as you are mine. You smell of the kolto tank. How do you feel?"

Okay, she's willing to talk. Like a civilized, _alive_ sentient. Lower the torch, kid. No reason to be twitchy. " I'm fine. You were dead." Great line, General Obvious.

"Not dead, but very close to it. Close enough to fool those who healed you." I'm having doubts about the competence of the Peragian medical staff. After I leave, better check that they didn't leave a scalpel in me or misplace a kidney. "Healing trances can be... immersive. You understand, Jedi."

"I'm not a..." Shut my mouth. How did she know?

"Your stance tells me." The control freaks taught us to _stand_ the same. "Your walk is heavy. You carry a burden."

My burden is none of her concern. "We have more important things to worry about. What's going on?"

"I do not know." Kreia frowns, maybe not used to saying those words. Most Jedi aren't. "I was... sleeping."

Yes, her 'immersive' healing trance. Old people must sleep hard."Someone poisoned the kolto tanks. Any idea who?" That's right, I don't trust just any corpse who can hold a dialogue with me in an abandoned facility. I'm sensible like that.

"No. Why did they spare you?"

"They didn't."

"A result of your Jedi training, no doubt." Just can't leave that alone, huh? "Maybe they wished to sedate you."

"Maybe." I'll keep my theories to myself. Kreia of the undead might be involved.

"It is a mystery, to be sure. Do not be distracted by it. We must leave this place quickly." We?

"Why? Friends of yours planning to join the party?"

"You... could say that."

Wait, the medic's log said I arrived in a heavily damaged smuggler's ship called the _Ebon Hawk_, and there was an old woman and two droids aboard as well. Kreia must be that old woman. She knows how we got here, then. And who damaged the ship. Her 'friends', perhaps?

"We can discuss this later," Kreia interrupts, as if I speak aloud.

"Very well. I'll go find... something to help us escape your 'friends'. You can stay here." I don't need her tagging along. Don't need help cutting through the medbay door with my plasma torch. Besides, those pearly orbs she has for eyes? She's _blind_.

"You might wish to extend your search to some clothes, if only for proper first impressions."

Or not.

Kreia

I feel the Exile move through abandoned hallways, shards of surprise when she crosses a malfunctioning machine, bursts of adrenaline as she moves to destroy them with the blade she took from a corpse. Even without the Force, she is a capable warrior.

She's going through the security officer's records. Finds something exciting. I sense a definite goal in her mind now, a plan. Good. We may survive this yet.

Stretch my senses to the next room, sparks of moving machines. Too many. The Exile will be caught by surprise, at best. It is time.

She stands before the door, and I reach out...

"Exile, do you feel the danger?" I extend a strand of the Force to her, and her mind catches it, draws it hungrily into her void, where the Force was before Malachor. She staggers, fighting the connection. She's pushing me out, pushing the Force away.

_Amazing. _

"Do not fight. You need the Force to get through this place."

She is beyond rational thought, mind screaming. "I don't want it! Make it go away."

The Exile is too weak to resist much longer. Unexpected guilt slows my progress. She is exceptional. She broke from the Force, survived an addiction deadly to all. Now I'm making her take her bonds back.

It's necessary. And now it is done.

Her body is on the floor, she slowly rises.

"What? I can... feel again." such wonder in her thoughts.

"Yes." Must explain this, how to explain this? "While we were both unconscience, my mind may have reached out to you for assistance in healing. Perhaps you are feeling the Force again, through me."

A flash of doubt. Let a trickle of Force flow to her, increasing her 'dosage'. Her senses expand further. She calms. The screaming, the fear, the doubt is gone. She is happy. My guilt is back. One more dose, the deadly, enslaving drug, and she is chained again. Like everyone else.

But it's necessary. And now she can lead us all to freedom.

Atton

Bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.

_I'm hungry_. Jaq again. He was quiet, for a while, but after I got sick of pazaak, he came back.

Shut up.

_Make me_.

I ram my fist into the energy barrier, he hisses in pain. The setting's low enough it doesn't do much damage, I watch the burn mark on my knuckles fade away.

Had enough?

_Sadist_.

No, that's you. Let me rot in peace.

_Can't. Habits die hard_._ Remember when_-

Opponent draws first, it's a 7. I draw a 4. He draws a 6, that makes 13. I get a 8, that's 12.

Jaq fades with an angry curse and feeble pull at my mind. Finish the game. I win. I always win.

It's like you aren't even trying anymore (He's still screaming). Watch it, she's your mother too.

I'm going to die here. With Jaq. Alone. How poetic. I should mule over the symbolism in my final days.

Hm...

Nah. Borrrrrrrrrrrred. Bored, bored, bor-

Is that blasterfire? Lean as close as I can to the prison door without singeing an ear. Yes. Someone's alive out there. Maybe I won't die. Oh well. Always tomorrow.

_You have obligations._ A woman's voice. The Empath. Jaq makes a fuss, he always does when she talks. Ignore him. _She's coming. At last, she's coming._

Really? _The_ 'she'? Four years, waiting, over?

Too good to be true. Probably just loopy from low blood sugar. Haven't eaten in two days. A wonder I'm not hallucinating already. Well, suppose I am now.

No blasterfire. The battle's over, or logic killed the dream. Leaning towards the second, but I'll get ready.

Just in case.

Liran

Having the Force back is great. Like I've been in a kolto tank for the last six year, and just surfaced, breathed in fresh air again. Stop my musing to skewer a droid on my sword.

Left foot on floor, right foot on chassis, yank. Pull the vibroblade out. Lather, rinse, repeat. Easy as uj cake. Hey, no more mining droids. Things look like giant spiders(shoot as well as 'em too). Fortunately, they're built to mine Peragian fuel, not _me_.

Still running around in the unmentionables. Looting corpses? No problem. Stripping corpses? Maybe after freezing a few toes off, but haven't sunk that low yet. Not like there's anyone to look, beside Kreia, who is (probably) blind. If she isn't, nothing she hasn't seen be- that's an image I want to unsee. _Shudder_.

Back to escaping. The chief of security (great at his job, by the way. His mother must be so proud) had a kill switch on the main console. Shuts down the droids, although I destroyed most of them. It also unlocks the prison. Better than searching a morgue. Maybe I'll find some confiscated weapons. Or armor. Drafty in here.

Flip the kill switch, prison's energy field goes down. Let's do some looting...

_Behind this door someone yet lives. _Sithspit! Is Kreia trying to scare me to death? _Be careful. He may be useful, but his thoughts are difficult to read_. Stalk, you mean? Jedi and their mind tricks.

Can't wait til I'm alone again. No one trying to kill me, no old ladies crawling in my head, no mysterious criminals. Maybe he won't talk as much as Kreia. Wave the door open.

"Are you an angel? No, that's the most _awful_ pick-up line. Watch, some dumb kid will use it... Hey, nice outfit. The miners change their uniforms since I got here?"

Force forbid I meet someone normal.


	2. Jailbird

**Chapter 2**

**Sorry couldn't figure out how to do a Author's note at the top in the first chapter. Later on they'll be cut content. Peragus was mostly intact. Everybody hates Peragus (me too).**

Atton

Stang. Knew it was all in my head. Still going to die, then.

_Some seer you turned out to be._ Jaq talking to the Empath.

_This is the one_. She's all worked up now.

_She's a hunger induced hallucination! By the way, nice going. You've got good taste._

_No hallucination. _The Empath usually ignores Jaq.

_How else do you explain the dress code?_

If she's a hallucination, I'll play along, if for nothing but someone else to talk to besides you two. So, quiet, I'm trying to have a conversation with a half-dressed angel clutching a vibroblade like she can't wait to use it on us.

_You aren't going to call her Angel, are you?_ Jaq again.

"You have a name, or just a big mouth?" she has a hard voice, a little angry. Be careful.

"Atton. Atton Rand. Excuse me if I don't shake hands. The energy field causes mild electrical burns."

_Smooth, buddy_.

Shut it, Jaq.

"Liran Ericho," less angry now. Good. She's right next to the release button. _Come on, you can take her out before she has a chance to lift that blade. Get ready._

Shut up. Not taking anybody out.

Push Jaq in the corner. Soon, I won't have to deal with him, if she's the one I'm looking for.

"I'm sure there's a great explanation for why you're in a cage. Why don't you share it?" Uh-oh.

"To the point. I like that. It's a long story. Let me out and we can talk about it."

She doesn't move an inch. Worth a shot. "Spill it."

Truth will do this time. "I'm a smuggler. I was moving some... goods, stopped for fuel, Peragian security did a random ship search, got lucky. Threw me in here."

"That wasn't long at all. Tell me why I should let you out." What? She wants me to _beg_?

"Look, Angel." Sarcasm won't do any good but I can't help myself. "Not like your half-naked interrogation isn't a personal fantasy of mine, but-" Her eyebrows are doing a little dance. Heh heh. Wait, Liran Ericho, as in _General_ Liran Ericho? Oh frag. "Hey, you're that Jedi. The Exile."

Jaq throws a little fit, ignore the things he tells me to do, search my mind for the Empath. Unavailable for comment. Convenient.

"I'm not a Jedi." Exile has her arms across her chest, like I'm attacking her somehow. "Not anymore."

"The miners thought you were. Had a big argument over it." She's paying attention now, so keep going. "Some wanted to sell you to the Exchange."

"What does the Exchange want with me?"

"They set a bounty, a high one, for live Jedi. Most bounty hunters will make an exception. Maybe they figure the reward for a dead one would be bigger than the full bounty, minus the cost of prosthetic limbs."

_Jedi don't like the lightsaber jokes, remember?_

Oops.

"I'm not a Jedi." Fortunately, she ignores it. Or doesn't care.

Don't respond to that. I'm not the one she needs to convince. "Anyway, the management of this fine establishment felt a little squeamish about dealing with the Exchange and decided to turn you over to Republic Command. So there's this big argument, lots of explosions, no people for days, and then you show up in your underwear and things got a lot better."

There go the eyebrows again. It's hilarious, really. She's still not inclined to help. Different tactic, then.

"Alright, the situation: Something bad happened here, real bad, and as far as I know, we're the only survivors. This is the administration level. Now, I heard the place go into lockdown a day and a half ago. Unless you hacked the main computer and ended the lockdown, you're stuck here. No turbolifts working, right?" The eyebrows say yes, but Angel is giving me the silent treatment. "It could be a month before the Republic notices the fuel shipments have stopped, depending on their schedule."

This worries her, a lot. Good. Stop while I'm ahead.

"Through that little rant you forgot to tell me why I should let you out of your cage." She's _still_ not buying. What do I look like, a serial killer? Mandalorian berserker? Sith assassin?

_Two out of three. Wait, have you had a genetic's test?_

Shut it, Jaq.

Wasting time here, and I haven't eaten in two days... "I can hack that computer." Well, I think I can.

"You'll hack the miners' computer. My hero. They'll give you a medal for saving us." Cynic.

"Oh, she's got a sense of humor too. Be still my beating heart, I think I'm in love." Hey, she started it. "Just let me out of the fragging cell and we'll go from there."

She powers down the cage without a word.

I'm free. It worked? _That_ made her trust me?

"Try anything and your body stays right here."

Well, it's progress.

Liran

Two oddballs running around now. Three, if I count me.

Still in my underwear... hate being in my underwear, Jailbird won't stop joking about it.

He reaches for the administrative computer. Stop him with my arm.

"One thing. I give the orders here. Ask me before you do anything on that console."

"Got it, Angel. You're the one wearing the pants." That little- there is no emotion. There is no emotion. Keep my mouth shut. "And I would say 'no pun intended', but that would be a stupid lie. I only lie when I can get away with it." Need... him... alive.

Atton slides right past me, on the computer. He's twitchy and fast, be ready with the blade, just in case.

"Ha, this is easy. Get past the log in and I can just end the lockdow- uh-oh." The computer makes a sound, an unhappy one, Atton is pressing buttons, and this looks bad. More bad news and I might get violent.

Let him concentrate as machinery shuts down, one by one, til there's just one screen lit up. He's cursing at the computer now, smacking the console.

"What happened?" Stay calm, find a way around this, keep my anger in check. _Careful with that temper,_ Master Kavar always told me.

"I'm shut out." He's incredulous. "Someone in this facility just cut off the administrative computer. I have nothing. We're stuck."

We're going to die here. I'm still cold, after running around wasting droids for hours. What a way to go. Freezing to death cause I won't strip a corpse... Okay, slight exaggeration. But it's going to be unpleasantly chilly as I waste away from whatever random fate befalls me over the next month.

Maybe starvation. I'm starting to get a little hungry. There's packs of ration bars in a plasteel cylinder, don't know if it will be enough for a month.

Wait, Kreia's 'friends' are coming. If they get here before the Republic- I don't know what will happen. Should ask her later.

Occurs to me that Atton and I are both staring off into space (literally, there's a big viewport and I can see the Peragian asteroid field), probably thinking about the same thing.

Brings me to another scenario; I've let a psychopath loose. Wonder if I could shove him back in the prison.

"Did you find anything to eat?" He stands.

I point him over to the cylinder and sit at the console. All we have access to is the comm. Kreia reminded me how to sense living beings, and non-living moving objects, and I can only feel the three of us. This isn't too conclusive. I only sense Kreia definitively (perhaps through this link she thinks we share), Atton is just a little smudge of movement on the edge of my perception. If survivors aren't walking around like him, I might not pick them up.

Couldn't hurt to try the comm.

I send automated pings to every console in the facility. None answer, but it might take a while for anyone to notice. So we're waiting.

Atton is pacing, crunching a ration bar. Occasionally he stops walking and chewing, stares ahead, glassy-eyed, like he's thinking real hard about something. Then he snorts and keeps going.

Not an inspiring display of mental stability. The psycho theory is looking better.

Take a moment out of my incredibly busy schedule to give jailbird a look-over. Should check Republic records for a criminal history, if they have a database here.

"Problem?" he asks, stops chewing. I'm staring at him.

"Someone poisoned the kolto tanks. Would you know anything about that?"

"Excuse me? I don't think I heard you right. Sounded like you were accusing me of something." His eyes narrow to slits. "You think _I_ killed the miners?"

"I was just asking if you knew anything."

"I was in jail."

"Alright." Not going well. Keep him calm.

"If I kill someone," he turns and starts pacing again. "You'll _know_ it."

Didn't sound like a threat at all. About that force cage...

Atton

_Good. Now she knows we're a maniac._

_You're_ a maniac. I'm just a fool with a big mouth. Where is the Empath? She has some explaining to do.

_You know Jedi. Holding your hand til the moment your blindfold falls off. She won't be back any time soon._

Quiet.

_I can take her_. Jaq switches subjects fast. Does it just to keep me off balance. Makes him harder to ignore. _Look at her. She's scrawny. I'll do it fast too. Just to make you happy._

She_ is_ scrawny, but that vibroblade looks awfully comfortable in her hands. We need her to escape.

And unless the Empath is lying, I'll help Liran Ericho. She's my only chance at freedom.

'My only chance at freedom' doesn't look too impressive or general-like. She's thin (_scrawny_, Jaq mutters again. Ignore him), real pale, like she hasn't seen the sun in years. Black hair, makes her look even pastier. High cheekbones, slanted grey eyes.

Get the feeling she'd rather kill me than hold a decent conversation.

Yech, ration bars. Swallow the last bite. What's their marketing line, 'Giving soldiers indigestion since the days of Exar Kun'? Or is it 'Survives everything you could, and much, much more'?

The administrative computer makes a sound. Liran turns to the comm.

"Hello? Does anyone read me?" She's talking too loud, not used to a comm system, obviously.

A string of droid binary comes from the speaker. An astromech. Great, it probably hates organics as much as the mining droids.

"Are you functional?"

She listens to the binary, looks like she knows what it means. I can sense a pattern, always been good with numbers, but not enough to understand.

"Good. T3-M4, right? I want you to try to end the lockdown on the administration level. We need to get to the docking level."

More binary. That whistling and beeping hurts my head.

Liran waits for a response. Nothing.

"It might take him awhile," she sighs. Leans back in her chair.

Keep pacing. Nothing else to do, beside talk to Liran, and that went _so_ well a few minutes ago.

"Is there any chance you could regain control of part of the system?" she asks suddenly.

"There might be something whoever shut us out didn't think was important." Why didn't I think of that before?

She lets me take the seat again, search the console.

Ten minutes later, I have... nothing useful.

"Great." Need to keep sarcasm in check. Liran doesn't appreciate it much and I suspect she's got a ferocious temper if bothered enough. "We have sensors in the lower mining tunnels. And door control."

"Door control?" She looks hopeful.

"Doesn't matter, the turbolifts won't open. We're still at the mercy of your astromech." Who will probably lead us into a trap and laugh in shrill binary as we die horribly.

"He'll come through," Liran says, more confidently than her face suggests. "And if he doesn't, I'll chew a hole in the elevator door and _rappel_ to the dock with my hair." Suddenly, she doesn't look too calm. Never seen a Jedi with that Sith-ish, cold expression. Oh, sorry, _ex_-Jedi.

Can't help but pity the idiot who locked us in here when Not-A-Jedi Liran Ericho catches him. Embodiment of peace and serenity she is not.

"How about we come up with a plan that's easier on your teeth. Can you slice a door?"

"With a lightsaber."

"Got one handy?"

"Then I wouldn't have needed you. And frankly, I'd rather have the lightsaber. Much better company. Although you both make a very comforting droning noise..."

"Ha-ha. Demolitions?"

"Not really."

"Have any skills not involving swirling Force" wiggle my fingers in the air "or consulting the Schutta of Fate and her kek-stirring Staff of Destiny? Are you only useful with a glowstick and a really unflattering robe?"

Her eyes look like slivers of smoky glass. "You only need one arm to work the computer, you know."

"Wow, somebody forgot to meditate today."

She keeps glaring. "Being an idiot doesn't help our situation. Say something _useful_, and I'll listen."

Okay, she has a point.

Still trying to think of a plan when the console pings.

"What do you know, the little cargo cylinder came through."

She ignores me, opens the comm.

"Did it work?"

Binary. Force, my _ears_, that's shrill.

"Thanks, T3. That will do just fine." She looks relieved.

"He unlocked the turbolift?" Finally. Get ready to go.

"No."

"Why are you looking so pleased then? We're still trapped."

"Not exactly. You have control of the doors in the mining tunnels, right?"

"Yes."

"The turbolift will let us down there now."

"So? What can we do with that?"

"There's another turbolift connected to the mining tunnels. It leads to the docking level."

"There's about a battalion of insane droids down there, but I think we could handle them, yeah."

"Someone has to open the door to the turbolift after I get through the droids."

No. No fragging _way_. "I can open them before we go down."

"Then whoever's blocking us can close you out of the system again. You have to wait as long as possible." She can't do it. Liran doesn't know anything about computer slicing.

"But... but... you... mining droids... superheated gas pockets... _No_!" Having trouble putting words together. Must sound like a fool. "You're crazy, even for a Jedi."

"We don't have any other options." She spins in the chair, waiting for me to stop sputtering and agree with her. "You can help me up here, use the sensors and warn me when something's about to go bad. You have a comlink?"

Hand her one off the console. It's connected to this computer. She stands, stretches, looks ready to go. I'm insane. If Liran dies...

Jaq laughs. It's the first I've heard from him in a while. Yeah. If she dies, he'll be heartbroken, I'm sure.

_I'll miss how she threatens to dismember us on an hourly basis. Say goodbye for me, will you?_ His voice bothers me. Like he's planning something.

Shut. Up.

"Just... be careful." The eyebrows go up. "Not that I care what happens to you, or anything." Take the chair.

"Your concern is touching, Atton. I'll be fine." Not sure if she's sarcastic or not.

And then she sprints away, all heroic and Jedi-like again. In her underwear. Versus a battalion of droids.

Frag. We're all dead.

**Mmmmm, space army food. **

**The 'swirling Force' bit is for Jolee Bindo, who's been spouting irreverence and cryptic anecdotes since Coruscant was a small town with a well.**


	3. Gullable Organic

**Still trying to figure out this Author's note thing. Duh. I'll get it eventually.**

**If you're having trouble keeping the dialog of Atton's 'friends' apart, it won't be a problem. The Empath is taking a break, so it's mostly Jaq from here on in. And sorry if Jaq's character is a little off, I'm basing his whole personality off one cut conversation, which consists of homicidal ranting. Not much to go on. Heh heh. Now I want to watch that scene again. The ending makes me cackle.**

**No, I'm not a Disciple fan. How did you know?**

Liran

No chatter on the comm while I'm taking the turbolift. Nothing from Kreia either.

Peace and quiet doesn't seem so bad, now that I can use the Force to sense her in the back of my mind. I don't feel truly alone anymore. It's wonderful. Have to thank Kreia next time I see her.

Wait, no. I don't want this. People just use you. Like Revan. The sooner I'm alone, the better.

Don't think about it anymore. Get out of here, leave Kreia. Maybe the Force will go away too. It did at Malachor. I'll _make_ it leave.

Reach the bottom. Take a deep breath. Wave the door open.

No droids. There's a plasteel cylinder, and I'm feeling lucky.

Open it.

"Yessssssss!" Fist pump. Childish, yeah, but I have reason to celebrate.

"Something wrong? Sounds like static." Forgot about Atton.

"I found a uniform."

Something muffles the first thing he says. Like a hand over the speaker. "Good. No sense in you running around in your underwear. It's really distracting."

Silence.

"Uh, for the droids, I mean." This conversation just gets more awkward by the second.

"How close are the nearest droids?" Pull on the uniform. It's baggy, but better than nothing.

"Behind that door. Three. They should be easier to dodge than the ones up here. Environmental controls are doing squat, so it's heating up down there. Not enough to blind them, they're built for these conditions, but it should mess with their sensors a little. Give you an edge."

"Good. Liran out." Shut the comm, stick it on my belt, wrap my fingers around the vibroblade.

Lets make some scrap metal.

Wave the door open, dive into the chamber. All three droids swivel towards me.

I roll on the floor, swing my blade out at the nearest one, catching it in the chassis. Sparks fly. Stand up, chop at the second, slicing it in two. These things are made so cheap, it's shameful. Killing them is doing wonders for my flattened ego.

The third one manages to get an unbelievably inaccurate shot out before I stab it. It's legs twitch a bit, but the fight is over. Elapsed time: 8 seconds.

The General has still got it.

"That was quick." The comm crackles. "Take the door to your right. Should lead to the tunnels."

"I'm not in the tunnels now?"

"No. It's bedrock there. Sort of bumpy, be careful. Sharp stone fragments everywhere. There's an accident report on this console of some oaf slipping in the gravel scattered around and ending up with freckles on his _shebs_."

"Thanks, Atton. I really needed to hear that."

"Glad to help. Hey, while you're there, you could... scavenge some equipment from the... er..." he trails off.

"I am _not_ looting corpses."

"We're trying to survive here. You need any advantage you can get, and mining tools could help."

"No!"

"Alright, don't bite my head off."

"Liran out."

"Oh, Angel?" Raise the comlink again. About to put it on my belt.

"_What_?"

"Please don't get yourself mined to death by psychotic mechanical spiders." Comm shuts off. I feel so loved.

A dozen mining droids later, I'm more bored than frightened for my life. They shoot like a Dantooine farmer's militia, and it might be a little brisker than I'm used to, but not more strenuous than a good workout.

"I said shut up. Do you have a hearing problem? I thought we'd established who makes the decisions here" The comm. "You're not listening. We both need her alive to get out of here. Why don't you find a bug and rip its legs off or something? Go on, get. Leave me alone."

Need who alive? Me? Suppose this means I don't have to worry about him killing me until we get off Peragus. "Atton, is that you?"

Silence for a minute. "Is what me? No noise up here."

"Who are you talking to?"

"No one. I didn't say anything. Nothing. At all. It's all quiet on my end. Maybe there's a survivor down there."

Really, I think I would recognize his voice by now. "But... wouldn't you see them on the sensors?"

"Uh, yes, I would." He seems to think this over for a minute. "No other life signs detected. You're hearing things. Must have been static." The comm clicks off.

I don't want to know. I have too many things to worry about already besides how long it's been since my ally renewed his anti-psychotic meds. Deal with it later.

Keep moving until it squawks again. "See anything unusual?"

A haze in the tunnel ahead, ripples like... steam? "Yes."

"Remember me talking about 'superheated gas pockets'?"His tone says I should have listened.

"Yes."

"Well, there it is. It'll cook the flesh off your bones in seconds. The droids set off explosives down there to get the miners hiding in the tunnels. Caused leaks, but their programming made them patch it up. Most of the stuff has dissipated by now, but..." Almost hear him shrug. "Turn left. Should be a supply container over there. Use a heat shield."

There's the container. Open it. "No shields."

"The miners must have used them trying to escape. Some wouldn't have made it to the pocket. Take it off one of the bodies."

"Is there some reason you keep trying to get me to touch corpses?"

"It's not like they're going to mind. Do you want off this rock or not?"

Sigh. "I'll look."

"Oh, might want to wear gloves. They'll have been dead for two days, and it's a little steamy down there." the comm clicks off, so he doesn't hear the choice words I send his way.

A few steps later I see, and smell, three corpses. Already took care of the droids who killed them, so no reason to put this off.

Walk to the nearest one, grimace. This is way nastier than the burn victim in the morgue. Can't even tell species or gender at this point. The heat from the pocket is awful, sweat drips off my nose.

The shield is strapped to it's upper arm.

Bend down next to it. The smell gets stronger. My stomach clenches a bit, but less than I thought it would. Good thing I haven't eaten solid food in three days.

Slid the tip of my blade under the strap, cut it. The shield generator falls, pick it up.

Oh, Force, it's _slimy_. Gag.

Really wish I had gloves. Hold it between two fingers, go stand right in front of the gas pocket. Turn it on.

Can't hear anything over the constant buzzing, my vision is tinted a nasty orange. I smell burning ozone, but it's better than rotting flesh.

Look at the rippling air. Hope this thing holds long enough.

Now I'm running. Get to the other side of the pocket, lean against a rock. Really need to get back in shape.

The shield burns out while I'm wheezing.

"Hello? Did you plan on comming back after your little break in the sauna? If you aren't stewed by now," Atton says a bit irritably. "You should be almost to the turbolift. Hello? Are you there, Angel? Angel? _Liran?_"

"Here," I gasp. "Which way?" Four directions, all blocked by force fields. A pit in the center of the chamber, with a catwalk across the middle. There's a console at the center. And that is one deep pit.

"Far right, I believe. Can't shut down the field from here without our 'invisible friend' noticing. He might not care if you use the console down there."

Me, slice a computer. I could hardly get one to work in the war. They kept having to send a tech to fix whatever I messed up. I messed up a lot. Actually became good friends with the Iridonian mechanic. He was good at explaining things.

Run to the console. Plenty of droids behind the fields, but none look my way. Fortunately, I see four switches, one for each field. Don't know which is to the one I need, but, who cares? Doesn't matter if they're all deactivated.

"You might be able to turn those droids on each other," Atton says before I flip them.

"How?"

He runs me through the basics. Not as easy to follow as when the Iridonian explained things to me, but the tech usually stuck to law-abiding procedures, so maybe this is just more complicated than I'm used to.

Few minutes later, watching those hunks of metal shoot one another and smash their limbs together is my favorite spectator sport. When the last of them are dead or gimping in circles shooting sparks, I shut down the field and walk past them. Waving. Some try to follow, dragging their legs a few steps before collapsing.

Suppose it's cruel to do that. Like baiting a caged rancor. But...

Heh heh. A little gloating never sent anyone to the dark side.

Atton

Have to remember not to talk out loud to Jaq anymore. Liran probably thinks I'm insane now. Whether or not she'd be right is beside the point.

Finally. She's past the droids, all she has to do is get on the turbolift.

I'm tracking her with the sensors, a little red dot in the maze of tunnels deep in Peragus II.

_Here's when something goes wrong_ Jaq sounds smug.

Be quiet.

As if goaded by the sociopath himself, a readout on the sensors shifts from green to yellow. Check it.

Sithspit.

Activate the comm. "What are you doing down there?"

"Anything you're getting up there is probably my fault," she says, sounding much happier than she did while up here. Have to add that to the list of things that make women happy. Hoards of droids to slaughter.

"Did you shut down _all_ the force fields?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem"

"You triggered something. I don't know if it's a trap or just a malfunction, but that superheated gas is being funneled back into the tunnels. You have to hurry to the turbolift. There isn't enough time to turn back."

"I wouldn't if there was," Hear Liran's feet clanging against metal. She's close. Check the sensors.

A wave of heat, pouring through the tunnels, catching up to her, fast. It's going to be close. If she makes it.

Open the turbolift. Instantly, someone tries to shove me out of the system.

"Hurry. It's open." Sound calm. Almost...

Sensors are failing, the wave is distorting my readings. Can't tell if she's in the turbolift or not.

"Liran? Are you in yet?"

The comm dissolves into static.

_Better not wait too long or she'll cook in the lift_. _Steamed Jedi._ _Sounds like a Serrochan dish._

Jaq's right, even if he's just taunting me.

Let the lift close. The wave reaches it. The sensors go out. I'm blind.

"Liran?"

Static.

_Might be a good time to panic_.

Don't bother ignoring him, or trying to shut him out. If Liran is dead, I'm stuck with him, forever. Also stuck here, so forever isn't too long. Free of Jaq, one way or the other. Empath kept her word.

Therefore, no reason to worry about myself. The only person to worry about, logically, is Liran.

See? I can fret about her without Jaq taunting me. I can be selfish...

And still panic over that crazy Jedi.

HK-50

Perimeter Sweep: Activity spotted. Turbolift.

Scanning contents.

Scan complete.

Results: One organic, human, female. DNA unavailable, unable to determine identity.

Turbolift is stopping on Maintenance level.

Powering weapon.

Vantage point reached.

Turbolift doors are opening.

Optimal accuracy ratio achieved.

Stand by. DNA analysis from expelled carbon dioxide pending.

Analyzing.

Analysis complete. Organic identified. Target: Jedi organic Liran Ericho.

Altering data records. Switching target location from medbay, status: unconscience to maintenance level, status: conscience.

Assigned hazard level: low. Reassessing hazard.

Assessment complete. Hazard level: Extremely high.

Altering strategy, taking new data into consideration.

Altering.

Alteration complete. New strategy generated. File name: Gullible Organic.

File Objective: Return target to sedative laced kolto tank. Priority: Extremely high. Risk of damage to target: Acceptable.

Strategy accepted. Applying strategy.

Concealing weapon.

Prepare to facilitate communication.

"Greeting: Master! It is a pleasure to see you alive."

Liran

The turbolift shuts just in time. Feel the metal heating as the lift rises. Good thing I have boots, walls are hot to the touch.

For a second there, I thought he wouldn't close the lift. That would have been... bad.

Thumb on the comm. "Atton? Can you hear me?" Static.

Oh well. He may be less irritating as a chunk of metal on my belt, but it's nice not to hear him. Enjoy the quiet as long as it lasts.

Scratch my arms. I have a few little singes from lucky mining droids, didn't even notice until now. The sleeves of this awful uniform are burnt and ragged. Good thing I had it on.

Try to concentrate on the burns, make them disappear. Nothing. I'll have to ask Kreia to re -teach me Force healing technique. A little embarrassing.

Turbolift stops, opens.

It's the Maintenance Center. Lots of droids, all deactivated. Feel like mincing them, just in case.

Deep breath. No people, no shooting, so peaceful...

"Greeting: Master! It is a pleasure to see you alive."

Kek. It's supposed to be an abandoned facility, yet somebody's always talking my ear off. Not fair.

The silver droid approaching isn't a mining model, so I'll let it live... for now.

Humanoid, with a synthesized male voice, minus the grating Coruscanti accent in most basic-speaking types. Slanted yellow photoreceptors, slightly insectoid faceplate.

"Who are you?"

"Statement: I am an HK-50 protocol droid, at your service, Master."

"I don't own a droid. I've never seen you before in my life."

"Answer: I am a survivor of the _Harbinger_, Master. You are the only living organic which I may serve."

Great. Just what I needed. A protocol droid wouldn't know how to shoot a blaster, would it? Useless. "Do you know what happened between the _Harbinger_ and now?"

"Irritated Answer: Oh, Master, it is such a long, dull story."

Grit my teeth"Why don't you tell me anyway?"

"Hesitant Explanation: The _Harbinger_ suffered a cascade failure, disabling the ship."

Wait for him to continue. Nothing, I'll have to dig every word out of him. "Where was I?"

"Answer: You were incapacitated and locked in a cargo compartment."

"Incapacitated?"

"Clarification: Yes, Master. I expect the flurry of destruction on board the _Harbinger_ drugged you into a stupor."

"What do you mean, 'drugged'?"

"Placation: Merely a turn of phrase, Master. The implication that your state was due to the result of ingesting large quantities of alcohol was unintentional, although, it was rumored among the Republic soldiers that you were known for indulging in such an activity on a frequent basis."

How did they hear about that? "I... I am not a drunk!"

"Placation: Of course not Master. I only meant to communicate that you were unconscience before being locked in the cargo hold."

"Locked?" Apparently, I am doomed to repeat this machine endlessly.

"Clarification: I mean, 'sealed', Master. My vocabulator must be malfunctioning." That is an awful lot of 'malfunctions'. Is there some sort of droid computer virus going around?

"I don't remember any of this." After dealing with the mining droids, I'm developing trust issues with machines. And is everyone in this place lying to me about _something_, or am I just paranoid? Kreia won't tell me about her 'friends' coming to get us, and Atton is shifty all the time, and I'll keep that comment about him needing me alive in mind. They're quite a pair. Maybe after this they'll get together and swap kek spinning techniques.

"Query: Master, are you alright?"

"Fine. How did we get from the _Harbinger_ to here?" Go over the memory loss later.

"Recitation: Before the set of coincidences leading to the _Harbinger_'s failure, we were boarded by a small freighter. It had been attacked, and the captain wanted to study it. You were taken on board the freighter before the _Harbinger_'s systems went critical. I, too, managed to board it before the _Harbinger_'s destruction. We were most fortunate to have survived, Master." The same freighter the medbay records mentioned?

"Any idea who attacked the freighter?"

"Evaluation: Master, I do not know. Judging from the damage, it was a much larger vessel. When it attempted to escape the _Harbinger_ with us on board, it was fired on again. Addendum: it does seem odd that such a small vessel has a high probability of attracting the attention of much larger vessels. Not a welcome trait in what appeared to be a smuggler's ship." Kreia's friends, maybe? She said they attacked us.

"What was the name of this freighter?"

"Answer: The _Ebon Hawk_." Yes, that's the one from medbay.

"And the _Ebon Hawk_ came here?"

"Apology: My memory core cannot provide a clear answer on that point, Master." I'll take that as a 'probably'.

"What happened once the ship arrived?"

"Answer: After discovering you were a Jedi, they debated what to do with you as you lay unconscience in the medical bay. One group was intent on selling you to the Exchange. The other group opposed."

Wait for him to keep going again, he stops. Sigh. "Then what happened?"

"Continuation: Three standard hours after the division between the miners became apparent, accidents began to occur throughout the facility. These accidents coincided with the degradation of the mining droid behavioral cores, resulting in murderous rampages. A result of their cheap manufacturing, no doubt."

He has a point on the last one.

Only half listening to him as he goes on about his trials in service to the Peragian chief mechanic, the 'orange haired organic' who put him to work repairing mining droids.

"How did they know I was a Jedi?" interrupting him, he looks a bit miffed, somehow.

"Exclamation: Why Master, because I told them."

That idiot. I ought to yank HK's obfuscating head off and beat Atton to death with it. Kill two liars with one hunk of metal, to slaughter the old phrase.

Temper, temper, Padawan. Kavar in my head again.

"Are there any survivors?"

"Answer: The explosions herded the miners into the dormitory section of the station. The explosions had damaged specific sections of the ventilation systems, causing a lethal buildup of toxic fumes. The open comm gave this unit the satisfaction of hearing their dying screams."

"_Satisfaction_?" It isn't my imagination. I'm surrounded by psychopaths. Or HKs vocabulator is just really glitchy.

"Hasty Correction: Why, satisfaction at the confirmation of their fates. It would be... unpleasant not knowing what happened to them, correct, Master?"

"I suppose. How can I get to them?" If anyone got to a breathing mask in time, they might still be alive. Could use their help, as long as they won't turn me in to the Exchange... cross that thug-infested bridge when I come to it.

"Warning: Master, this unit strongly advises you not risk your well-being on foolish ventures."

"Duly noted. How. Can. I. Reach. Them." Force, can anyone just _cooperate_ today?

"Reluctant Answer: Due to the lockdown in this facility, the only way to the dormitories is a sealed airlock leading to a catwalk on the surface of the asteroid.

"Condescending Statement: However, this is irrelevant, since the airlock can only be opened with a voice-activated code, set by the orange-haired organic in charge of repairing the droids." Another fellow who wins the 'Employee of the Month' Award, no doubt...

Did he say 'condescending'? "Tell me where he is." If he's alive in the dormitories, maybe I can use the comm to-.

"Pleased Answer: A command I can easily carry out! Over there." Points a silvery digit to a corner, then turns sharply. "And over there. And a little there, under your left boot."

Lovely. And what's he so 'pleased' about?

"Then how am I supposed to make him say the code?" More to myself than HK-50.

"Condescending Answer: You cannot, Master."

"Say condescending one more time. I'm in a wonderful mood, droid," snap finally.

HK gushes apologies for a bit, then goes silent. Must have strong self preservation protocols.

"Do you know the code?"

"Answer: Yes, Master."

"Can you imitate voices?"

"Proud Answer: Of course, Master." Finally, something will go simply for me today.

"Then open the airlock."

"Horrified Response: Oh, no Master! Doing so would endanger your life. I exist to serve you, but keeping you safe is my first priority." Or not. Fierfek. Maybe...

"Stay here. I'll be back."

"Statement: As you command, Master." Ugh. 'Master' reminds me of the Jedi Order. Don't like it.

"I suggest you wait here for a Republic rescue vessel." Ignore him. He doesn't know about Kreia's friends.

Go to a line of storage lockers in the next room, looks like it was the maintenance chief's office. Some items are found in any office, from a General's to a Mechanic's.

Walk back to HK, make sure to step _over_ the piece of maintenance chief this time.

"Query: Did you find what you were looking for, Master?"

"Yes. About that voice code..."

"Protestation: Master, I cannot open the airlock for you. Doing so would be against my programming." If I get out of here alive, _despite_ HK, I'll sell him for parts.

Keep thinking that, it helps me stay calm instead of itching to take my sword to him. "I bet you couldn't imitate him well enough to fool the system anyway." The droid can't be stupid enough to fall for this, but it's worth a shot.

"Indignant Exclamation: Not true, Master. I am perfectly capable-"

"Prove it." The droid has an ego. Good.

"Proud Recitation: Maintenance Security Code R1-B5." A voice I assume to be the 'orange-haired organic'.

_No way_ the droid just fell for that. Not possible.

Ask him to stay there, walk away, replay the security code on the voice recorder I pulled from storage, it's proven. I didn't imagine the whole thing.

That is one stupid droid.

**I hate you, HK-50, and your obfuscating rambling. Grrrrr. I tried to shorten it as much as possible.**

**I keep forgetting to respond to the reviewers. Sorry. Er... I have no idea what to say. I'll work on it.**

**ShiftySpaceCow(My first reviewer!), Random Tigerz of Lily, brina, and Billyjoeischrist: Thanks for taking the time to let me know what you think. I'm glad you enjoy my nerdish fangirl scribbling.**


	4. Space Stroll

**I noticed people put disclaimers on their stuff. Sooooo...**

**I do not own an enormous sci-fi universe with millions of loyal fans. Darn. You've discovered my shameful secret.**

Atton

Okay, now I'm panicking.

It's been a half hour. I'm shut out of the computer, completely. Can't even contact T3, not that I want to. The comlink still isn't working, feels like someone is watching me; _swear_ I just felt a Jedi try to dig into my head, Jaq is throwing a fit, headache...

And Liran's probably dead. One silly little job, and I messed up. Empath must be disappointed. All her work, for nothing.

Been turning on the comm every few minutes, just in case. Got my weapons and pack out of jail storage, might have some use for it.

If nothing else, I can shoot myself if Jaq won't shut up.

_Hey! I can hear you._

Good. Wouldn't want you to die not knowing who killed you. That would just be inhumane.

_Your mercy would make the Empath proud._

She knows how much 'mercy' I'm capable of. You want a taste?

It's a low shot, but it shuts him up. Makes me a little sick inside for thinking it.

Thumb on the comm, think of anything else...

_Crackle_ "Atton?"

_You have _got_ to be kidding me. _

Looks like we're not quite dead yet. Thanks for that tip about the turbolift.

He spits a few curses at me.

Smile, it's always nice when Jaq is disappointed. When one of us is suffering, it makes the other's day. Look at the map, locate her life signs.

Er, it isn't working right. Oh well, Liran is alive, that's good for now.

"Hey, how's it going, Angel?" Casual. "I lost your signal after that explosion, great job, by the way, almost destroying the tunnels... again."

"Good. Can you still track me?"

"Well, I _should_ be able to, but it's malfunctioning. Says you're on the outside of the asteroid, that can't be right."

There's a hiss, then a clunk over the comm. She's breathing hard now.

"Angel? What's going on? Did you get to the docking level?"

Liran catches her breath, then I hear clanging footsteps. "Are you alright?" She sounds amused now. What's so funny? "You look a little... flushed."

"Huh?"

"Look outside."

This woman gets herself in the oddest of situations.

Liran is standing on a catwalk, in a bulky environmental suit, outside the window.

"What- How-"

"I just decided to go for a stroll." Liran stands on her boot-toes and hops back and forth, twisting her arms awkwardly. What in the name of all that's holy is she...?

The Exile is dancing a jig. On a catwalk. In heavy vacuum. In an asteroid field.

_Dancing_. It's official, Liran Ericho has flown off her fragging lightsaber hilt.

Jaq whistles, impressed.

Even _he_ wouldn't do something so...so... "You're _crazy_, even for a Jedi. Come back in here!"

"It's the only way to get to the dormitories. If there are any survivors, they can help us. Maybe end the lockdown." She stops dancing, thank the Force. I was afraid she'd float away.

Check the sensors outside. Great. More bad news.

"The superheated gas that flooded the mining tunnels is spewing out of a breach to the asteroid's surface. Have you seen anything?"

"Oh, _that's_ what that pretty purple stuff was." She giggles. What is going on?

"Did it get on your suit? It could burn right through."

No answer.

"Liran?"

"On this tube thingy. And now I feel all wobbly."

One of her oxygen tubes. After the breach, the suit would switch to the emergency backup, but not before she took in some. She's acting stupid because she inhaled Peragian fuel. It's a miracle she's still conscience.

"You really need to come back inside." Now _I'm_ the reasonable one?

"Can't. The door sealed behind me." She sounds more serious now. Good.

"Alright. Get to the dormitories, fast." Nothing. Still standing there. "Now."

She turns, walks out of sight. Just stay in contact until I know she's inside...

Wait. I don't believe this. There's a ship, coming in to dock.

Read it's transponder code. A Republic cruiser, the _Harbinger_. Wonder if it's here for Liran.

I've got a bad feeling about this.

Liran

After I'm inside, do some deep breathing, use the Force to oxygenate my blood faster, push the taint from my lungs. This time, it works, must be getting stronger.

The world clears. Would comm Atton back, but it's static again.

Groan. Atton. How humiliating. I hope he enjoyed the show, because he's _never_ going to see it again.

Open a door. A red light skims past my nose.

Lash out with my vibroblade. Shower of sparks. Looks like the mining droids made it over here too. Not good.

Even the fire extinguishers are trying to kill me. Two swivel my way, spurting white goo. Not so threatening. Dodge. Stumble, manage to catch myself and avoid most of the flame retardant chemicals.

A bit sprays on my leg, it burns. Okay, maybe a little threatening, judging by the acid-eaten body I just tripped over.

Break one extinguisher off it's base with a kick.

Should get used to the Force again. Haven't used it in combat yet.

Stand out of the other's range, concentrate. It spews more acid my way, falling too short to even splatter me. Feel the metal between invisible fingers. Squeeze. The extinguisher whines, but not even a dent in the stupid thing.

Try again, several times. Nothing. I can't even crush a little droid. So weak, so pathetic so...

"_Useless_!" Heat, flowing down my arms like blood, to my fingers. Without thought, they move, shoving something away.

_Sreeeeeeech_. The extinguisher rips out of the floor and flies across the room, smashing into a wall.

I'm sucking in air, the burning in my fingers fading slowly.

It's been so long since I've lost my temper, since before my exile. This place is getting to me.

Or could it have something to do with regaining the Force?

Breathing slows. The heat is gone.

"There is no emotion, there is peace." Talking to myself helps. Need to focus, or I'll go mad before I make it back to the administration level.

My leg still burns. Look down, the acid chemical has eaten a hole through my skin the size of my palm. Surprisingly little pain for such an ugly injury. And somehow, it doesn't bother me that much. Should be upset, but I've been through worse.

Limp my way to the nearest storage room, use a medpack, try not to think about the 'Dark Side Voodoo' Rev, Alek and I used to mock when Vrook finished a long-winded lecture about insidious emotions.

Considering what happened to my fellow comedians, it doesn't seem so funny anymore.

Use a few more medpacks on the arm burns. Shove the rest in my belt for later. I can feel the medpack's kolto patch binding my skin together, slowly.

Sit on top a lab station, look at the materials spread across the counter. Read the datapad next to it, a manual. Someone was putting together an ion grenade.

Follow the instructions, pouring the liquid and powdered substances into a round shell.

Hm. Not enough of one powder. Read the manual again, find out what it is.

Detonation agent? How much detonating powder do you need? The recipe, if you can call it that, calls for an awful lot of the stuff.

Don't want it to explode on my belt, so less is good. Add the powder, mix it all together, seal the grenade.

"Yep. Now I'm packing _ordnance_. Come get some, spiders." Not that I plan on wasting it. I'll save the grenade for something with better aim.

Move on. A few more droids, no more injuries, to the dormitories.

They're locked. Of course.

Comm is still down. No help from the snark, then. Fiddle on the nearest console. Know I can unlock the doors from here.

After skipping through the menus for a while, I'm considering that 'Dark Side Voodoo' again. A little Force Lightning would do wonders for my mood, but I need the console in one piece, even if I can barely get a computer to cooperate when it's _not_ trying to bring about my death.

Fine. Different tactic then.

Press random buttons, try my best to look like I know what I'm doing.

I feel like such an idiot. Maybe if I destroy the thing, emergency protocols will open the dorms...

"Emergency lockdown overridden." A prissy female voice interrupts.

Got lucky. That works too.

Move into the dorms, no droids. Smoke, or something else, clogs the air, can barely see. There's a funny smell, though, and it's making me dizzy.

Poison. Fierfek, there's no way I can go in there without a rebreather.

Back to the storage room, dig through plasteel cylinders and lockers, pick up a spare blade while I'm at it. Strap it to my belt. Could use it, but my melee skills are a little rusty, better go dueling style for now.

Ah, there. Pick it up, run back to the dorms. Strap the thing to my face.

Hate it. All I can hear is my breathing, can't smell anything, it covers my ears, muffles the sounds, the goggles restrict my vision. I feel like I'm suffocating.

Walk in, slow, watch my step. Over the bodies, too cloudy to see much about them, except they're not moving, and that's all that matters.

Work my way around the dormitories, try not to trip. It's so crowded in here, can't take a step without my boots brushing against someone.

Okay, it's Jedi mantra time. "Don't puke in the mask. Don't puke in the mask. Don't puke in the mask..."

My foot catches, and I fall right on another corpse.

After a few moments, eyes squeezed shut, get back to my feet, keep going.

I may or may not have squealed like a little girl. The mask is making me jumpy.

Search each room, don't find anything besides a spice stash shoved under a mattress. Everyone is dead.

Look at the dorm console. The miners put their journal entries in here. Nothing to end the lockdown. How am I going to get back to the administrative level, much less off Peragus?

Leave the dormitories, fast as I can without tripping.

Stand out in the hall, rip the rebreather off, gasp for fresh air.

I think I might be sick. Close my eyes, calm down, just get back to the admistrative level, then I'll be too busy trying to get a straight answer out of Kreia, and trying to get Atton to shut up, to lose it.

Start walking.

Stop. I feel... danger?

Wait. Suddenly I know, somehow, Kreia's friends are here. And I can taste their hatred.

Need to get out of here. Run.

Destroy any droids that bother me, work my way to the turbolift. There's only three bodies in this room.

Turn on the computer by the lift. It's locked. Frag. Need to learn some hacking. Might come in handy, since every lock within a parsec of me activates the second I come near.

Find the security recordings. Pull up the last sign of activity.

"Coorta, the lift isn't opening. Try the code again." One holographic miner stands by the turbolift.

The one at the computer mutters the numbers aloud as he types.

"Something's wrong. Why isn't it working?" Coorta slaps the computer. Pretty sure the miner's computer is shut down, his expression is comically identical to Atton's when he hacked the administrative console and immediately got thrown out of the system on his _shebs_.

"Miner Coorta, you have outlived your usefulness and become a liability. I am sending several droids to correct the problem." This voice doesn't belong to any of the miners. They all stare at the computer.

Holographic droids appear in the room, all three are shot down.

Know that voice. HK spoke the security code in it. Was the Maintenance Chief responsible? No, wait. Oh, of _course_. So stupid.

"Mocking Query: Coorta, Coorta, are you dead yet?" Fierfek, I let him live. He must have locked me out on the surface. I got high on fuel fumes and danced a jig in front of Atton because of him. And almost died of course, but...but... a _jig_! Going to kill that droid. "Smug Statement: I forgot to mention I reversed the code, in case you actually made it this far."

Shut down the recording, enter the code the miner muttered, backwards. Turbolift opens. Once again, HK's arrogance saves me.

His programmers really need to fix that.

Atton

After _Harbinger_ docks without asking any permission, this place is somehow creepier than before. Something evil is coming, and I'm not just being dramatic.

_It's getting closer._ Jaq whispers. _Watch out._

Hush, you.

Concentrate. Footsteps, two pair. Shoulder my pack and draw both blasters. If one pair of feet are Liran's, something might be chasing her.

"Good, you have weapons. Atton, Kreia. Kreia, Atton. Let's go." Liran. She points to a hooded old woman.

Look her over. That robe...

Jaq hisses. _One attracts another. This is a mistake_.

Quiet. Liran's not one of them anymore.

"What, another one? Do Jedi reproduce through cell-splitting, like amoebas?" Have to make a good impression on the crone, right?

Look at Liran. Wait for it... there.

_I missed that death glare._

She reaches down, peels a kolto patch off her leg, through a hole in her pants. "We have to go. Something is coming, and it's not friendly."

"Maybe from the huge Republic cruiser that just docked," I suggest, pointing out the window.

She stares."The _Harbinger_."

"Okay, guessing that ship is bad news."

Kreia the crone decides to contribute to the conversation, since Liran is mooning at the cruiser. "I hope your ability for understatement is offset by your skill with a blaster, otherwise our time together will be short indeed." Her lips are pressed in a skinny dark line. "Unless you have another use I cannot glean."

Feels like something's wiggling around in my brain. Jaq crushes it before I can deal a game of pazaak.

That Jedi witch tried to get in my head. Pretend I didn't notice. She didn't get anything out of there. Well, nothing from me. Jaq uses some interesting stuff to shut people out. Heh heh. Wonder what she thought of _that_.

"I'm also good at running and drinking, your Majesty."

Never seen someone's face shrivel with disdain like that. Looks like someone sprinkled salt on a slug.

Kreia and I will get along just fine.

Liran snaps out of it, notices the rather chilly vibes in here, and turns. "I saw a fuel line from the _Harbinger_ to another part of the facility. Maybe we can get to the docks from there." She unclips an extra sword from her belt, hands it to Kreia.

It's the best option, even though the fuel line might be in vacuum, or full of toxic fumes, or collapse under our weight. Or full of 'that pretty purple stuff' Liran was giggling about an hour ago, which would melt us into a puddle of crone, ex-jedi, and scoundrel. I don't want to die from my cells mixing with Kreias'. _Shudder_.

Aw, worry about it later."We should get moving."

"Emergency lockdown overridden." a cold female voice. Turn towards it.

A tall, silvery droid clunks in. From the shut down turbolift. Only one way it could have used it. Should have known a droid was responsible for this mess.

"Threat: Master, I told you to stay put, shut down and wait for rescue." It walks towards Liran.

Fierfek. It's a Hunter Killer assassin droid. Personally designed by Darth Revan to take down Jedi Knights and deserting Jedi Hunters in the War. Tough machine. Good at it's job. _Very_ good. But not invincible.

"I just don't listen to assassin droids. And stop calling me Master." Liran.

"Correction: Assassin droid is such an unsophisticated term, Jedi. Our function has been better described as 'wanton slaughter'.

_Not after us._ He's relieved. I'm not. It's after Liran, we'll be in the way. HKs don't care about collateral damage.

Is it a bad sign I'm not surprised Liran has one of these things out for her head?

_Yeah. She's even more troublesome than she is pretty._

Sigh. Hate it when I agree with Jaq.

"Complement: You are difficult to catch, Jedi. Eager Threat: I will enjoy torturing you."

_She's _my_ prey. Scrap the metal _shabuir_!_ Jaq's furious.

Liran is no one's prey. Your's or HK's. But, yeah. Let's scrap the metal _shabuir_. Always hated that copper-toned psycho.

_This one's silver. Someone else produced it? There was only one unit in the war._

Must be a newer model. Who knows what nasty surprises will come out?

"I don't think you'll be enjoying much of anything when I'm done with you." Liran looks awfully eager with that blade. She's thinking of jumping him.

_No, no, no! She'll just get herself killed fighting like that._

What do you care?

_I think the Exile will have plenty of people around her that need killing. I'll help you keep her safe... for now._

Think I might be sick, but if this is the only way I get his cooperation, go with it. Jaq can relish all the dying enemies he wants, as long as he stays quiet and out of my way.

"Warning: this is your last chance to come peacefully, Jedi. If you return to the kolto tank, I will dispose of these two organics quickly, and you will be unharmed. If not, it will be highly unpleasant for all of you."

"I don't think it will be pleasant for you either."

It might be easier if she did go back to the kolto tank. Then I could take care of him without Liran getting in the way with her up-close-and-personal vibroblade. But she's not going for it. Great, the only Jedi I'm supposed to help is determined to get herself killed. Kind of the opposite from how it's always been for me.

"Eager Statement: Very well, Jedi." HK's blaster rifle comes up.

_BZZZZZZZZT._

The droid staggers, electricity dancing on it's armor plates.

Kreia lowers her hand.

Liran tosses something with a flick of her wrist. It bounces off the assassin's chassis and clanks on the ground between it's feet.

All four of us look at it.

"Taunting Statement: That is a pathetic makeshift ion grenade, Jedi. You should just use lightsabers."

"Fierfek," Liran mutters. "_That_'s why they use so much of the detonation powder."

Then it explodes.

Start shooting. HK's jerking, trying to bring the rifle around. Liran steps forward and neatly cleaves it's head off. Wait, that was way too easy. This model's of a cheaper material.

The severed chunk of metal spins in the air. It's hypnotic...

_Thunk._

"Fierfek!"

**I promise, next chapter there will be actual combat. I'll overcome my laziness and write a real fight scene. *sigh***

**toby, Random Tigerz of Lily, billiejoeischrist: Thanks for taking the time to review.**


	5. Threads

**Okay, I lied about the fight scene. It's pretty pathetic. Oh well. Sion is (sort of) introduced in all his creepy stalker glory.**

Liran

HK's head sails through the air...

_Thunk_.

"Fierfek!"

Into Atton's face. Should have knocked him unconscience , or at least off his feet, but he just puts his hands over his nose and cusses like a spacer. Repeatedly.

"Are... you... alright?" I make odd hiccuping sounds between the words. Oh, wait, that's not the hiccups.

Probably shouldn't laugh at him, but I'm not used to restraining emotions anymore.

Have to work on that.

"Yeah, it's fragging hilarious. Did you have to swing that hard? You could have just, I don't know, stabbed it, but _noooo_, you have to hack the fragging head off like it's a bloody log-splitting contest." Blood's gushing out his nose.

Kreia doesn't look inclined to help, frowning at it all, so I concentrate, and the bleeding stops. No serious damage, it's not even broken. What is that man's head _made_ of, Beskar'gam?

"Next time wear a helmet. I intend to fling droid parts everywhere if they get in my way." Walk towards the boarding hatch. _Harbinger_ should have connected with the docking level, but they attached to administration instead, on the emergency hatch. Bad sign.

Atton wipes off his face, follows. Kreia is beside me.

Droid wreckage by the hatch. Someone chopped them to pieces with a blade, a sharp one. Pick up a chunk, examine the cuts. Clean, too clean, no sign of a oscillating sword.

"Not from a vibroblade." To myself.

"Cortosis," Atton says.

"A cortosis weave blade still wouldn't be sharp enough."

"Not cortosis _weave_. Cortosis."

"A pure cortosis sword? I've never heard of such a thing. It's too powdery to make a good weapon."

"It's blended with some other metal, not sure what. Expensive, but worth every credit. It'll cut through almost anything a lightsaber can... I hear."

Kreia's watching, not speaking, not surprised.

"Who owns cortosis swords?" I ask him.

"Someone who wants to take down a Jedi."

Cold again, on the inside this time, colder than when I first slipped out of that kolto tank.

"Sith?" whisper.

"Not many bounty hunters could afford it."

"Let's go, then. No sense waiting for them to come to us."

Step through the hatch, down the umbilical to the _Harbinger_. Stop at the other side, wait for Kreia and Atton.

The lights are dimmed, temp so low I can see my breath. The Force must want me to freeze. Can't we find somewhere _warm_ to escape various maniacs?

No one attacks. A little disappointed. Curious about these swords. Not that I have a lightsaber to test them with.

"Where is everybody?" Atton comes in, after pointing a blaster through the door. Might have been a good idea for me to do that. Just in case.

"They are dead." Kreia's plainspoken, for once.

"No blasterfire," point out. The walls are clean.

Neither acknowledge me.

"Assassins of a different sort were here."

"_Sith_ assassins?"

Kreia pauses. Not sure how to answer a yes or no question? Typical Jedi. "Yes." Oh, finally. "They seek you, Exile." She's going to call me that all the time, isn't she?

"Great. What did you _do_? The Sith have been laying low since the Civil War, and the only person who managed to bring them out of their cave is _you_?"

"No reason to panic. After we get out of here, you can run as far away from me as possible." Try to calm him down. It doesn't help, like he expects to be stuck with me for the rest of his life. Maybe he's right. We're all probably going to die here.

"You two are the worst Jedi I've ever met! Defenders of the galaxy my _shebs_." Atton isn't calming down. "I was better off in my cell."

"Be quiet. I am trying to think." Kreia.

"There's still time for us to put you back, if you want." Just as loud as him. If any assassins are nearby, they can hear our yelling. Don't care.

"Maybe I would!"

"Quiet, I am thinking," Kreia says. Barely notice her now.

"Maybe you should keep your comments to yourself!"

"Silence!" Kreia again.

"Maybe you should have kept a closer grip on your lightsaber! Then we wouldn't be in this situation! You could have cut your way to the dock."

"_Maybe_ I should have left you to rot in that cell and found my own way here!"

"_Maybe_ you should have!"

"_Silence_!" Kreia. We look at her. "You are behaving like children."

We are. Shut my mouth.

"What is our plan, Exile?"

"Make our way to the back end, exit the _Harbinger_ through her fuel lines to the docking level. Pick up T3, the astromech who got me out of admin, have him unlock the hanger, escape on the _Ebon Hawk_, the smuggler's ship."

Kreia nods, finds this satisfactory. Don't know how I'm going to do half the things I told her. I'm just making this up as I go.

"We'll need updated navigation charts," Atton says.

"What?"

"The orbital drift charts we need to get through the asteroid field. The _Harbinger_ must have them, they got through just fine."

"The _Ebon Hawk_ survived."

"Ships can download them from the station before they enter the field. The _Ebon Hawk _must have, since you're here and not spread in a paste across an asteroid. Now the maps would be what, three days old? The _Harbinger_s' are just a few hours out of date, so we can use them."

"So why don't we just download our own to the _Ebon Hawk_?"

"I'll have to hack any security systems she has. And if I can't get past them all instantly, it'll be a dangerous waste of time. If we have the charts on a datapad, I can just plug them in, less hassle."

"Where could we download them from?"

"The bridge." he doesn't look too mortified at my lack of mechanical savvy. "So, you know this ship?"

"I was here, then I woke up on Peragus." Makes no sense to me either. "I know my way around, yeah."

"Our enemies gather while we stand here." Kreia's grumpy. I'll get her some arthritis pills, see if that helps.

Lead the way, to the bridge. All halls are empty, no corpses, no signs of battle. These Sith are good. They've managed to make a ghost ship creepier than a corpse-strewn abandoned mining facility. I wish someone would attack us. Waiting is getting old.

Ah, the bridge. Empty, but there's some blood on the pilot's chair. First sign of violence. Atton casually wipes it, sees it's dry, and sits. Yuck.

He hacks the main computer, pulls up the charts, copies them onto my datapad.

Take the computer, don't sit down. Find the Captain's log.

Scrolling through them is boring, but find a few about me, how the _Harbinger_ tracked me down on the 'rim and told me I was needed on Telos. No reason why on this computer either.

Now to the interesting stuff.

"...Found an abandoned ship, Sith designation. Only one sentient aboard, near death condition. It was firing on a smuggler's ship, the _Ebon Hawk_. Republic Command is highly interested in that ship, for some reason. We're towing it with us to Telos..."

Open another, keep looking.

"... Personnel have started going missing since we boarded the Sith vessel. That HK protocol droid sent to us by Republic Command a month ago has taken an interest in our passenger. The Exile doesn't mind it's constant chatter, so maybe we'll have it look after her..." Hey, that chatter is annoying. I probably just ignored him... not that I remember. Wait, what's this one from the day after? The last transmission.

"... Just spoke to Admiral Onasi. He said-."

"Sir, just lost communication with medbay." An officer, panicky.

"What?"

"Got one comm. Listen."

Shattering glass. A scream, recorded.

"I have come for the Jedi." The voice is dry, unnatural.

"What the frag was that?" the captain again.

"Sir, that Sith was in medbay..."

"Attention all crew, we have an intruder aboard. Last known location, Medbay. Use lethal force, repeat, use lethal force. All crew to battle stations."

The battle alarm, then recording ends.

"Don't tell me one Sith did this." I'm looking for some assurance that it isn't possible, that _one_ Sith wasn't responsible for all this.

My companions look back, Kreia with indifference, Atton twitchy avoidance. Both know something, but they're not telling.

"Could one Sith do this?" Repeat.

"You are not asking the right question," Kreia says. More avoidance, getting sick of this.

"Depends on the Sith," Atton mutters. So grateful someone finally _answered_ me, I don't ask how he knows. Maybe later, when we aren't about to die.

Wait, sense something... Far off, it's not a person, it's _pain_. Like a cloud of emotion is floating, no sentient being producing it.

Look to Kreia. She's grim. Well, grimmer than usual.

Make our way back, past the hatch. The pain is getting stronger.

And something else. Now I feel a _person_ in the pain, almost drowned.

"Who is that?" gasp the words out, feels like it's suffocating me.

"Tune it out. Don't try to connect yourself to him." Kreia stands beside me.

Pain. It's nauseating. Fall to my knees. Can't... breath...

"Liran, what's wrong?" Atton, far away. "What did you do to her, hag?"

"Silence, fool. It is beyond your prosaic comprehension." She kneels. "It is in your nature to bond with others. You must suppress it, or he will draw you in."

She doesn't say what happens after he 'draws me in'. Somehow, I know. A fate worse than death.

"Concentrate on our bond, Exile. Gain strength from it."

As she says it, I can see my bonds, three stretching away from me, one murky and dark, one crisp and tight. And the third, black and oily, thickening by the second. That must be the source of the pain.

The other two bonds must be Kreia and Atton. It's strange that I've already formed a bond with Atton.

Which bond is Kreia? Can hardly think from the pain, reason it out slowly, deliberately.

The light one is probably stronger. Kreia is Force-Sensitive, Atton is not. Force-Sensitives form much stronger bonds than normal individuals. Therefore...

Focus on the bright one. I could make it stronger, but breaking it once we get out of here would be harder, so I just use it as an anchor, pulling away from the oily presence, leaving another ragged, torn thread, joining the billions dangling, empty, off my form.

Those threads... is there one for every soldier at Malachor? Stop thinking, stop thinking, just breath in.

Kreia

Sion's connection to the Exile cannot be allowed. It would strengthen him, and lessen her bond with me.

"Concentrate on our bond, Exile."

She stretches her senses, probing lightly at the three strands surrounding her.

Three. She has already bonded with the fool. Her ability to manipulate others is returning faster than I thought it would.

This... complicates things.

My bond is weakened from concealing the distasteful taint that accompanies the'Dark Side'. Meaningless, of course, but she would not see it as such.

Wait for the Exile to draw to me.

Nothing.

She has grasped the fool's bond instead of mine.

She is not deliberately reinforcing the connection as I supposed she would, fortunately, but such an activity strengthens it nonetheless.

The Exile severs herself from Sion. Good.

She sighs. "Thank you, Kreia."

She believes the bond was mine. The fool did not feel her drawing power from him. There is less damage than I thought there would be.

I shall deal with him.

Atton

_Really?_ Jaq sighs. _She is getting more persistent._

Kreia tried to get in my head. While Liran was having her creepy little spiritual experience, or whatever it was. Funny, it felt different, less focused than her other attacks. And weaker. But maybe she was distracted.

_That felt a lot like when the Empath_-

Yeah, I noticed. And that _worked_ last time. I am getting some serious bad feelings about that witch.

_Easy. Just get ready to deal with her if you need to._

For once, I actually agree with you.

Liran

No pain. Open my eyes. Kreia is on her feet again.

Oh, and Atton is pointing a weapon at her head. Little details, don't notice them at first, you know.

"I think there's a Sith Lord on this ship." Stand. A little dizzy, but nothing else. "Atton, if you plan on pulling that trigger, I'd rather you save it for him."

He lowers the blaster. "What did he do?" No apology to Kreia. She doesn't seem to care.

Take a few steps. Stop. They're both still.

"Come on, what are you doing?"

Kreia draws the long sword I gave her, ignores me.

Still don't sense anything except a tingle of danger, and that's been here since we boarded.

"They're here," Atton says.

Great, even the non-Jedi knows more than me.

A dry sound, like moisture being sucked out of the air, behind me. A stealth field generator shutting down. A streak of red burns past my cheek. Turn.

Atton's blaster shot catches a black figure in the face. It falls, silent.

Now I sense them, surrounding us. Fierfek. At least 20. Well, 19. Blasterfire everywhere, the assassins carry quarterstaff swords. Is he even aiming?

Raise my blade, just in time to block a _very_ sharp looking quarterstaff. That lovely shade of blue metal... cortosis.

My vibroblade might have cortosis weave, but not sure.

The assassin pushes against it, testing the strength.

_Sheeeeeeeeek_. What is that horrible sound?

A bolt takes out my opponent. Maybe Atton _is_ aiming. Or incredibly lucky, since he saved my shebs twice in 30 seconds.

He'll probably rub it in later.

Clash swords with another Sith, this time he doesn't uncloak until the blades touch.

_Crack_. It's not supposed to make that sound.

Put a hand out to use the Force, to push him away. Nothing happens. Uh oh. I _really_ need to practice.

Head butt him, his infra-red goggles shatter, cut my forehead. He staggers, screams. Glass went in his eyes.

Always was better at fighting dirty. Finish him with the blade, block the next attacker.

_Craaaack._ That sound again, louder. The assassins, and Atton, turn sharply, like I called their names. They're all staring at my vibroblade. It's cracked a few inches from the base.

No cortosis weave, then.

One kicks the blade, it snaps off the hilt.

"Fragging piece of kek." The assassins are circling, focused on me. No weapons, no skilled use of Force, nothing. Well, I've got an old woman (possibly undead) with a cortosis-free sword and a snarky liar with two blasters (which must be close to overheating), maybe that's enough. Be positive, right?

Nope, positive isn't my forte. We're going to die.

**I hate cliffhangers, but since the fic would be awfully short if everyone died, I don't think this counts.**

**Lui: Thank you, and I will, since I'm rabid about unfinished stories, and dropping this would be hypocritical.**


	6. Dry Rot

1**All disclaimers are on my profile page. **

**I'm not changing my Exile's name. Meetra sounds awful. I also completely disregard anything in that book. No canon endings here.**

Atton

I'm going to die. At the hands of inept Sith assassins.

It's official. The Schutta of Fate has a sense of humor, and _fierfek_ is it ironic.

Another goes after Liran. Shoot him.

_What is wrong with these amateurs? They're taking turns!_ Jaq.

Don't know. I'm certainly not complaining.

Take down three more, one after the other. A few come to shut me up. Finally noticed the gunman knows what he's doing, huh?

_Click._ No. _Click._ No, no, no. _Click, click._ Knew they were running hot, but come on, not now!

Can't cover Liran anymore. She's too busy dodging blades to fight back. Real quick on her feet, they can't keep up. They'll get lucky soon, though. They always do.

Throw one blaster at an assassin, hit him in the head. I'm not going down easy. Reach for my knife. A scream stops me.

Not a normal scream. Not from outrage, or agony, or fear, it's different, so loud, gets in my head, feels like it's between my brain and skull, stabbing me with needles.

Drop my other blaster. The assassins fall. Really should join them, so dizzy. Keep standing. Liran looks around, confused, she's not affected.

Seconds, maybe hours go by. The assassins are twitching on the deck, I go to my knees. Something's dripping from my ears, leaves red dots on the metal floor.

The scream ends.

Not sure how long it takes for the pain to stop. Come to my feet.

"What did you do?" Liran asked Kreia. Forgot the old hag was there.

"It is a little known technique." Crone doesn't offer anything else, Liran doesn't ask. Why doesn't she ask?

"Are they dead?" Don't care about the philosophical kek, just give me my enemy's corpse and I'm happy.

Liran probes some bodies with her foot. A few in the pile twitch, but nothing else.

"Close enough." Doesn't sound like she cares much either.

Kreia's glaring at me. Didn't know blind people could glare. What did I do? Besides survive whatever sonic hokum she was screeching, that is.

Tilt my head, shake out some blood. "Problem, Jedi?" Still a bit of a headache, but I can ignore it now.

Yech, that shriveled look. And is that little nudge in my skull her trying read my thoughts again? Let Jaq crush her probing mental fingers. She's back to the classic digging tactic. Good.

Pick up a quarterstaff. The blade's cortosis. _Kandosii_.

Grab another one, then take two shoulder holsters from a couple not-twitching Sith.

Liran presses a hand to her forehead, it's all sliced up. Then she wipes the blood off, the cuts are gone.

"Here." Strap the double-blade sheath to her back. She accepts the weapon, twirls the blades, nods.

"I'm accustomed to two-weapon fighting."

I remember. In the Mandalorian war, she had two lightsabers. We all knew her from the yellow blurs on the battlefield.

Pick up my blasters.

"What happened to it?" Liran looks at the heavily dented butt of one.

"Chucked it in a Sith's face when it overheated."

"I like your style, Rand. Let's go."

Walk again, got the double-blade strapped to my back, Liran's holding her's like an old pro. Kreia skulks in the back, occasionally tries to wedge a tentacle in my head. Push her out, each time she scowls deeper.

Liran doesn't notice. She didn't use the Force against the assassins either, and they aren't resistant to manipulation, like the crone proved. She probably hoped my brains would melt with their's.

_Ha. Joke's on her._ Jaq is being more polite now, since we're working together for Liran.

"Why are we stopping?" the crone is harping again. Wonderful.

Liran stands at a door. We're in crew quarters. "This was my room."

"Do what you must. Hurry." Suddenly Kreia's in charge?

Liran waves her hand over the door. Nothing. She frowns, tries again. "They locked it."

Walk past her, look at the control pad. Cheap Republic security. Reach down, pull my knife from my boot.

"What are you doing?" Liran doesn't stop me.

Pop the edge of the pad, pull out bundles of wires. Poke through them, sever one with the knife.

The door opens.

"Pure pazaak." shove the pad back in place. No sign of tampering. "A neat splice keeps the authorities away."

Liran gives me a funny look, kind of like when I was strapping the double-blade to her back, then walks in.

Few minutes later, she comes out again, with a pack like mine, half empty. She's wearing light combat armor. It fits a lot better than that mining uniform.

"I'm ready."

As we walk, she's reading a datapad. Stops.

"I don't remember this."

"What?"

Kreia glares on. Don't think she likes it when I talk to Liran.

"This appointment." Liran shows me the datapad.

**Liran Ericho, please report to medbay for standard medical injections at 0900 hours.**

"Why not?"

"It's scheduled on the day _Harbinger_ was... taken over. I don't remember what happened then."

"I doubt you reported in, then."

She shakes her head, keeps walking.

We stop again at the conference room. Aren't we supposed to be escaping here?

Liran goes through the logs, opens one.

The captain's hologram salutes. "Admiral, we're towing the ship, as requested."

Admiral Carth Onasi appears. Admiral Carth fragging Onasi! Head Admiral of the Republic Fleet. "Thank you, Captain. The _Ebon Hawk_ is a special ship."

I'll say. It's our ticket out of this nightmare.

"The passenger is secure as well."

"The Exile is very important to the Republic's recovery. She's the only Jedi left, as far as we know. Keep her safe."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Onasi out."

Liran's braced against the table, head down. Hair's covering her face.

"You alright, Angel?"

"I know the Jedi Civil War was hard on them but, _all_ gone?"

The Jedi. Oh. She knew them, obviously. "A lot went missing."

"Missing?" she's whispering. Barely hear her.

"Yeah, started disappearing one by one, going on missions and not coming back. Then they pulled some mass vanishing act, went into hiding. After that, all I heard about them was when somebody found a body."

"Body?" a little louder. Good.

"Yeah. Turned up dead. For a while, it was at least once a month, but much rarer now."

"The Sith are hunting Jedi." Liran's convinced, I can tell. She's also right. Thought so when I first started hearing about the bodies. Made me nervous. Thought it might be my... coworkers' doing, especially after hearing about the condition a lot of Jedi were found in.

"And you are a Jedi." Kreia.

"I am _not_ a Jedi."

"They think you are, and that is all that matters."

The crone's right. Liran is easy prey for Jedi Hunters; rusty, confused.

_Weak._

If you _ever_ say that again-

"Let's go." She pushes away from the table.

More walking, two more cases of enemy contact, three-man ambushes. Liran twirls that double-blade and they go down fast both times. It's like she was asleep before, and finding out why the Sith want her woke her up. Or pissed her off.

Because now, she's dangerous. Real dangerous with those swords. My job won't be as hard as I thought.

Feel Jaq studying her technique. Have to keep an eye on him.

"Medbay." Liran walks in.

A particularly stupid assassin uncloaks next to me and wings his sword at my head.

Duck. Liran skewers him before I'm off the floor.

Fine, I won't rib her later about me having to shoot her attackers while she waved a sword hilt around. We're even.

Look around. One large kolto tank in the center of medbay, for emergency patients. It's broken, shards of glass radiating from the tank, bathed in soft blue light.

"Something exploded inside the tank." Kick a few slivers away so I can hack the computer. I assume that's what Liran wants.

"The body they took from that ship was a Sith Lord," Liran says. "He did this."

"Great. You're real popular, aren't you?" Finish with the computer, step back.

"Yeah, must be my magnetic personality." Liran plugs the datapad in. Read over her shoulder

**Error. Your treatment has already been administered. Please consult the medical staff.**

Liran puts in a query for the contents of her treatment. Read it. Know every chemical. Sedatives.

"Wow, that cocktail should have killed you." Well, a normal human. A Jedi would shrug it off after a healing trance. But this should have kept her under for a week, even with accelerated drug absorption.

"Force users are resistant to poisons. Some techniques can make you immune."

_Not true. Remember that hallucinogenic plant we had shipped in from Dxun?_

I remember... Shut up.

"Who drugged you?" Ask, though I know it was that Hunter-Killer unit.

"HK-50." A newer model. Revan had an older model, a 47. "Probably for easy transport. Tried it again on Peragus. Killed the miners in the other tanks."

Fierfek, she took _two_ lethal doses on top each other? How many livers does this woman have?

She goes through the medical logs.

"... Don't know what's holding him together. Multiple lethal wounds, up to ten years old. They haven't healed, but there's no bleeding.

"His cells should be losing cohesion at this stage of decomposition, but he's still in one piece. No indications that he'll wake up, ever."

'Losing cohesion?'

_Oh, yuck. Can you imagine the smell?_

Yeah, let's not think about that. Hope we don't get close enough to experience it firsthand.

"What about surveillance cameras?"

She nods, flicks through the computer. "Here."

Watch the tiny screen.

It's focused on the kolto tank, there's a huge man floating. Liran's Sith Lord. Can't see much, it's grainy, but he looks... odd. Something funny about his skin.

A Republic soldier walks past.

The body in the tank jerks. Republic does a double take.

Sith Lord thrashes, 'Public clutches his head and goes to his knees, screaming. There's no sound, but the Sith is screaming too. Looks like he's singing the same song Kreia did for the assassins.

'Public falls. A few seconds later, the man in the tank spreads his hands and _pushes_.

The tank explodes, fragments twirling through the air, fast, piercing other tanks, shredding medical droids, dropping the medical personnel where they stand.

The Sith kneels in the shards of glass, doesn't show any sign of pain. He says something, looks at the camera. Screen goes blank. I know what he said.

_I have come for the Jedi_.

He's been hunting them, then. Great. With my luck, I'll end up locked in a room with the _shabuir_.

Liran stops the recordings, leans on the console, all casual. Need to get back to escaping, what is she doing?

Look. Can see her thinking, piecing facts together behind those grey eyes. It's a cold process, know it well, and it only lasts seconds before she comes out of her brain again, sees me looking.

The eyebrows do another irritable little dance before she speaks. It's... comforting, somehow. Liran is still cranky, the 'verse is still in one piece. All is well. "I have what I need here."

One turbolift, three cloaked assassin squads (Really, where did these guys train? The Di'kutla Center for Homicidal Spice-Heads? Oi, Goggles: Stab first, _then_ uncloak), ten minutes, almost to the fuel lines.

Wait. Feel... what is that? Reminds me of the smell of rotting flesh, but not a smell. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Liran stops. "What?"

"You know, a bad feeling. Like something's about to go real bad, real fast. Can't you sense it?"

She shakes her head. "There's nothing we can do about it."

"Just... let's be careful. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving. I know when trouble's coming."

She shrugs, but pulls the cortosis quarterstaff off her back.

Kreia just shrivels at me, sticks a claw in my brain. Push it out. That witch doesn't give up easy.

That 'smell' gets worse every step I take.

_Get ready._

He'll probably use some mind-melting voodoo like Kreia did.

Deal. Opponent draws a 4. I draw a 7. Opponent draws a 9, total is 13...

Watch Liran.

She pauses, looks at Kreia, then me. _Now_ she feels it. Walks again. She's coughing, like this... _thing_ is a toxic cloud. I feel nauseous, and it's harder on a Force-user like her.

Almost to Maintenance. Through this door and-

Liran gags. Her face is pale, her breathing fast and raspy, hands shaking. The color's leaching out of her eyes, leaving a shocked dull slate. She looks like she's been in a Sith torture room for a week.

"He's here."

Liran

"... I know when trouble's coming."

Draw the double-blade, get ready. Kreia's bond, which I've been steadily drawing strength from since we left the conference room, suddenly slips away, as if it never existed.

Look at her. No reaction. She hasn't noticed.

Suddenly, Atton is a dark, sharp presence, not the foggy smudge on the edge of my senses I've gotten used to. I might consider it... well, _sith-ish_ if he were Force-Sensitive.

The Sith Lord brushes against me again. It's death and decay, swirling around me. Cough to clear my lungs. It's just my imagination that I can't breathe.

Waves of nausea, choking, thank Force I still haven't eaten.

Stop. The pain focuses, into a presence, a jumble of rot and agony and hatred.

"He's here."

Atton

We all turn around.

Fierfek.

"I have come to warn you, Exile." He walks towards us, in no big hurry. Now I can see what's wrong with his skin.

It's grey, like a corpse too-long unburied, cracked and dry, so many wounds, don't know what's keeping him alive. Looks like he fell in a barrel of vibroblades, but something's familiar about the biggest scars.

Most of them are from lightsabers.

_Ol' Dry-Rot's been tangling with the Jetsii._ Jaq sounds a little jealous. Some of my 'saber scars are pretty impressive, but nothing like his.

He's closer. Now I can see the lightsaber in a grey hand. And that's a distinct Sithy scowl on his face.

Now's a real good time to run, but Liran stands there, gasping for air. Whatever he did earlier, he's doing it again. And Kreia isn't helping her.

The old woman looks at me, for once she's not frowning like I'm a stain in the carpet.

_We share the same goal. Achieve it, or I'll make you wish you were dead._ She's throwing her voice in my head, but I don't think she can read anything.

So how does she know I'm protecting Liran?

"Run, Exile. I will join you shortly." Kreia's talking aloud now. Good.

"But... but-"

"He cannot kill what he cannot see, and power blinded him long ago."

Well, Kreia's blind too, but if she distracts Dry-Rot long enough for Liran to escape, I'm not stopping her.

Kreia steps toward him, past an emergency bulkhead. It's a stopping point, in case a section is exposed to vacuum. She stares at Liran, waits for something.

Oh, that's my cue. Take a blaster, shoot the control panel on the wall. They're designed to trigger if there's a malfunction, fortunately.

The bulkhead seals. Liran's wobbling on her feet, all white, looks about to fall over.

Grab her arm. "Come on."

"I can't leave her." She pushes me away. "I don't leave soldiers behind. Not anymore."

What? "She can take care of herself. Remember the assassins? She turned their brains into jelly. I feel sorry for that _shabuir_ when she's finished with him." Grab Liran again, drag her away from the door. She's still pushing on me.

_Where's a neural collar when you need one?_

Quiet, Jaq.

"Liran?" Very calm.

She stops, looks at me.

"You can walk, or I can carry your unconscience Jedi carcass. What will it be?" Please walk. _Please_. My abilities would not be fun to explain when she wakes up. "Dry-Rot isn't getting his crumbly hands on you as long as I have a say."

"I'm not a Jedi." Still numb.

Pull on her arm, hard. Suddenly, she looks more awake. I think she just processed the rest of my threat.

"You wouldn't." She's angry. "You _couldn't_."

_Wanna bet? _Jaq's looking forward to this way too much.

"You don't weigh enough to slow me down."

"Try it, Jailbird."

"I'd love to. Promise I won't damage your pretty head."

The eyebrows again. "Fine." My Angel is back in the land of the lucid, and crankier than ever.

Liran puts a hand on the bulkhead, closes her eyes. "I'm sorry." She's not talking to me.

Turns, walks away. "Let's go." Through all this, she's still clutching that double-blade. Good. Probably going to need it.

Thank Force. For a minute I thought I might have to use...

_My skills_?

Not a word from you.

Let's get out of this nightmare.

**A little AU ahead. 'Cause the game made no sense in some parts.**

**I will also try to restore the Genoharadan plot.**


	7. Death Magnet

1**Er, okay, I made a little mistake last chapter. The word '**_**jetsii'**_**. Somehow, I mixed up the Mando'a word for Jedi (**_**Jetii**_**), which is what I should have put, with **_**getsii**_** *blush*. Not sure how.**

**Normally I would use a humorous one-liner to keep the words straight, but everything I come up with sounds like a dirty joke Atton would say to a Male Exile in his quest for suicide by lightsaber.**

**Still, it won't happen again. _Ever_. **

Kreia

Sion has not changed. He never changes. It's why he is pathetic.

He'll fulfill his purpose well enough.

Stand before him. He could kill me right now, were he strong enough.

Fool. I am still in control.

"I feel you master. Faint. Weak."

Really? I could say the same of you, broken one.

"I am free of your teachings. No longer do I hear your voice whispering in my skull."

Yes. Now my teachings are in _your_ voice.

"You used to be powerful. But now _I_ am the master, and there is only you, and the broken Jedi."

You know much of broken things, don't you? Yet she is so much more. She didn't just break, she became something else. The Exile. She is darkness. She is _beautiful_.

"And one broken Jedi cannot stop the darkness that is to come."

_Stop_? Broken one, stopping this darkness is not my intention. Far from it. "You believe I betrayed you? As you betrayed me?"

Feel his anger, hear the lightsaber. It's nothing but a toy.

Touch his mind, gently. _You don't want to kill her. You want to make her suffer. Kill her broken Jedi first._

For the first time, Sion smiles. And for the first time, he surprises me. I am only reinforcing the plan he set out. He intends to kill the Exile, and not just because she is important to me.

Interesting.

Sion raises the toy weapon.

_Hunt the Exile. Kill the Exile._

The darkness is coming.

The red blade descends.

This is the first step.

Gasp, on my knees. It begins now.

And I am_ far_ from finished.

Liran

"I think this is the fuel line. A bit claustrophobic, but it's safe. Probably." Atton has his head inside it, voice echoing. The hole is about a foot wider than his shoulders. A _bit _claustrophobic?

"Ladies first?" he steps back, out of my way.

"No." Last thing I need is him staring at my shebs.

"Not a suggestion. Get a move on, before Dry-Rot starts sucking your soul again, or whatever he was doing."

"You go first."

"Look, if the Goggles start following us, I can shoot them. You'd be in the way. And if you think I'm insisting for the view, it isn't that great. How many _months_ has it been since you've eaten? You have got the scrawniest shebs I have ever seen."

"I... do... _not_," sputtering a bit.

He just smiles at my reaction, points to the hole. Schutta. I am going to...

Calm down. Escape now, royal chewing-out for the Snark later. Move to the hatch.

Gasp. The cortosis blade clatters to the floor. Can't feel my hand. My wrist is on fire.

"Angel? What's wrong?"

Fall to my knees.

"Liran? What's the Sith doing now?"

-

"Oh, fierfek. Come on, Liran, don't give out now."

Face hits the floor. Don't feel it. Atton yells something, can't hear it. All I hear is my heart, so loud, it hurts.

It hurts. Another mantra. Ithurtsithurtsithurts-

Something grabs me, rolls me over. Lights. Too bright.

Then... nothing.

No pain. Open my eyes. Something's touching my neck. A finger. There's another on my wrist. The right one, my left arm is curled up against my chest. Left hand is numb. Someone's taking my pulse.

Where am I? Think.

Peragus. Mining droids. HK-50. Atton. Sith Assassins. The Sith Lord. Kreia.

Kreia.

"You're _touching_ me. Get. Away."

He lets go. "I would say that's a sign of life," he helps me stand. "But not even a coma could make you polite. What happened?"

"I'm fine. Let's go." Grab the double-blade. Strap it to my back. Can't move my left wrist.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Let's _go_." Push past him, climb into the fuel line. I'm not alright. Something happened to Kreia.

She wasn't lying when she said we're connected. Does that mean she always knows what I'm thinking? Don't know how to keep my thoughts from her.

What if she's dead? What if that's why the pain stopped? No. She's still alive. Good.

Silent for a minute. Then, because apparently I'm the only one in the galaxy who appreciates a little quiet:

"Are you at the end yet?" Atton sounds like he enjoys tight spaces even less than me.

"Almost halfway." Keep crawling. It stinks like fuel in here.

"_Frag_."

"What's wrong?"

"Er, nothing. It's nothing. Anything positive to say?"

"Positive isn't my strong suit but... I'm pretty sure Darth Dry-Rot can't fit in here." squeeze through a smaller section.

"_I_ can't fit in here!"

"No comments about my scrawny shebs now, huh?"

"Shut... up." He's in the tight spot now, pulling himself through. Can hear him kicking off the ribbing in the tube for momentum.

Pull ahead a little, stop. Look over my shoulder. It's too dark to see him. Pity. This would be a sight to go in the 'treasured memories' section of my brain, which is rather dusty right now.

"Stuck?"

"I'm fine. Just give me a second."

Ten seconds.

"I'm going to give you my foot. Use that."

"I doubt that will do anything."

"Shut up. Unless you want to stay here?"

He grabs my foot, yanks hard.

Hold on tight to the ribbing. "I could pull you out."

"You're not strong enough."

"I meant-"

"Uh-uh. No way. No freaky Force stuff." He jerks free. "See? Let's go."

Keep crawling. Starting to feel a little lightheaded. Must be the fumes. Wonder if the same thing will happen as last time. _Wince_. Not enough room in here for jigs, thankfully.

"Hey, you getting a little loopy up there?" Atton says. Too loud. Hurts my ears.

"Not at all. Why would I be?"

"Well, your miraculous liver doesn't help you with Peragian fuel. You're a personable spice-head, you know that?"

Groan.

"You did pretty good in an envirosuit. You're probably the best space dancer out there."

Snort. Okay, I am getting loopy if I almost laughed at one of his jokes. "Sure. We're almost out of here.

And then I might dance a jig because I'm so fragging grateful to be able to move."

"I look forward to it."

He doesn't seem to be affected. Why not?

The end, finally. Pull myself out, suck in air, but I still smell fuel.

"Yuck. That stuff smells awful." He's still not affected, watching me gasp like a fish.

It isn't fair.

"Where do we go from here?"

"Only one way." Point. We're in a fuel tank. Thank Force it's empty. It smells almost as bad as the line.

Start walking. Takes a little concentration to move in a straight line.

"You should invest in a breathe mask. Running from Sith will take you to all sorts of fragrant places."

Nod. Feels like my head's going to fall off.

"You might be allergic to Peragian fuel. You're face is all red and lumpy."

Glare."You're not helping."

"Of course, it could be just the unflattering light. You got any antidote kits?"

"No. I've been trying to escape, not scavenge."

He sighs, pulls that bulky pack off his shoulders. He dragged it through the fuel line. Must have some important stuff in there. "Here." Tosses me one.

Inject it. A cocktail of antivenom and allergy meds. Vision clears. "Thanks."

"No worries. If you need it, it's probably in here." He picks it up again. "Got grenades too. Specialized stuff. I'm saving it for Dry-Rot, just in case."

Not going to argue with that.

Almost trip over something. Look down.

"What's an astromech doing in here?"

"This is T3-M4." Run my hands over his battered frame. Pop a panel, look inside. "Looks like someone EMP'ed him." Flick a few buttons, start a reset. Droids are just complicated computers, but I'm good with them.

The power light, looking like a single, huge eye, flickers, then focuses on me.

"Dwooooooooo."

"We couldn't have gotten this far without you. Don't beat yourself up."

String of binary.

"I know. HK-50. An assassin droid. I'm sorry he hurt you. No permanent damage, as far as I can tell. After we're out of here, I'll make sure. Okay?"

The astromech chirps happily.

"Good to have you, T3. Let's go."

Keep going. All quiet now. The antidote kit's running through my system too fast, it's almost gone. A disadvantage of accelerated absorption.

Atton hands me another one. Hm. Must look like I need it. Which I do, but how did he- never mind. Figure out details later.

In the fuel line, there's two paths. T3 whistles something.

"What did the trash can say?"

"Don't call him that. Theoretically, one of these lines leads straight to the hanger. But it means more time in here than if we go through the docking level."

"How much longer?" He's looking at me, maybe trying to gauge how many antidote kits I'll soak up in a period of time.

"Half hour."

He rummages through the pack, muttering. The numbers in his speech are faster than the words. "Let's see. Weight _something_ kilos, height _something, _age _something_, fat to weight ratio extremely low, muscle to weight ratio low, female, human."

"You know what I weigh _how_?"

"Rough guess. Unless you want to give me the exact number..." He pulls something out. A bottle. Pills? Who uses pills anymore? They're inefficient compared to injections.

"Take two. Normally I'd say one for your size, but you're not normal."

Hmpf. Won't deny it. Take the pills. Tiny, round, and white. "I absorb drugs faster than most Force-Sensitives."

"This should be enough." Doesn't sound surprised at all.

T3 takes us down the long route. No mining droids, good. Left hand's still numb, can't handle the double-blade without two hands.

The pills help. A lot. Can't feel the affects of the fuel. The bruises I've accumulated don't ache anymore. Have to ask Atton what's in those things.

Hope it's not illegal. Didn't think of that. Although, I've broken so many Republic laws today, one more won't hurt.

T3 chatters away about the _Ebon Hawk_, apparently he was on it too. It was heavily damaged escaping from the Sith-controlled _Harbinger_. He jury-rigged it enough to get here. HK-50 attacked him when we reached Peragus, disabled him. He woke up when I commed him.

After he unlocked my way to the mining tunnels, HK tracked him down again. Poor little thing. He's had a bad week.

Then he asks something. Stop walking. Did I hear him right?

"You've saved my life twice. If you want to stay with me, I'd love to have you. And no memory wipes is fine with me."

T3 gives a little squeal. Think he's happy, but not sure. He could have been saying 'Frag no! You people are insane death-magnets.'

"Why does he want to stay with you? You're an insane death-magnet." It's official. Atton's understanding of my thoughts has gone from convenient to creepy. Or we just think alike. Ugh, that's even worse.

"So I am. You can leave us as soon as possible. What was in those pills?"

"Er, I'm fairly sure it's not hallucinogenic."

"'Fairly sure?'"

"Yeah. You're fine." He thinks for a minute. "Wait, does everything have a greenish tinge?"

"No..."

"You're fine."

Next time, I'm asking _before_ I take the meds. "Did you make them yourself?"

"Maybe. Is that a problem?"

"What's in them?"

He sighs. "Nothing poisonous, addictive, illegal, mind- or mood-altering, and not too expensive either."

"What's it for?"

"Kind of like an antidote kit, but better."

"What do you need so many for?"

He stops, looks at me. "Does it matter?""Does it?" Stop, stare back.

"No."

"Good."

"Good."

Glare at each other until T3 beeps and nudges my leg.

"Yes, I know." Walk again. I can walk and argue at the same time.

"It also makes some people a little cranky," Atton says, "But I'm having trouble telling with you."

"You asked about a greenish tinge, right?"

"Are you seeing it?" Suddenly he sounds concerned. How bad are these side affects?

"Sort of. But it's-"

"Um, okay, just stay calm and I'll-"

"It's red."

"Oh, cute. After we get out of here, I'll teach you some real jokes."

"Braat!"

Nod. "I agree with T3. And he summed it up more politely than I could."

"What?" He looks at the astromech.

"Learn binary and find out."

"Beep!"

"I never noticed that before, but yes, he _is_." Pat the astromech on the head.

"What did he say about me?"

"Oh, nothing."

T3 stops when we reach the hanger's fuel line, spits out a stream of binary.

"He can open the hanger doors from inside. All we have to do is download the drift charts to the _Hawk_."

"Great. I can slice the boarding ramp."

"Not necessary. T3 will take care of it."

The line is just like the one we crossed from the _Harbinger_. Except it's about the size of my head.

Atton pulls the knife he used to slice the crew quarters door and cuts it away from the fuel tank. It's a little disturbing, since we just crawled through a tube made of the same stuff, it being the only thing keeping us from getting sucked into hard vacuum.

Push the tube off. I can see the _Ebon Hawk_. A smuggler's ship, disk-shaped, rusty red and grey, a little beat up. I like her. She's got character. Wonder what adventures she's had.

"So, Fearless Leader, how do we fit through there?"

Ignore him, concentrate on a control panel out there, across the hanger bay. Use the Force to enhance sight, look at the options.

**Open fuel tank (For maintenance only)**

Use the Force, press it. A light, breath of fresh air. An astromech-sized door opened next to us.

Crawl through, one at a time.

Oxygen. All I can think about while T3 hooks up to the mainframe and opens the hanger door.

Look out, see the Peragian asteroid field, the system's sun. "Beautiful."

"Yes she is." Atton is eyeing the _Ebon Hawk_. "If a little blaster scorched. Hey, kind of like you, Angel."

"Thank you for that incredibly backhanded compliment. You're the pilot. Get her ready."

I don't know how to fly a ship. Hopefully he does. Well, a smuggler should know how to pilot a ship, right?

We all board. The lights are dim, the droids weren't done repairing. There's structural bracing so the ship can fly in the meantime, and looks like any breaches are sealed.

Head for the cockpit.

Two chairs, pilot and copilot, lots of control panels, don't know what they're for.

Atton takes the left chair. "It's voice locked."

T3 inserts a probing arm into a wall port. After a few seconds, the lights come on.

Atton plugs in the drift charts.

"How long until you can take off?" A little nervous, I don't see Kreia.

"Great. It'll be a minute, have to make sure we won't get sucked into hard vacuum out there from a hull breach."

I can wait.


	8. Chain Reaction

Atton

I'm surprised Liran hasn't thrown another fit over leaving Kreia. It's almost certain that she's dead.

_Is it? You know better than anyone, a lightsaber doesn't make you invincible. And you saw what she did to those pathetic excuses for assassins._

Dry-Rot is a _Sith Lord_, Liran said so. Revan was a Sith Lord. Remember Revan? How powerful he was?

"She's alive," Liran says from the copilot chair, arms crossed. "I can feel her."

"Can you tell her to hurry up?" Calm down. If necessary, I'll just restrain her, get us out of here, and keep her doped up until we get too far away for here to do anything about it.

Yeah, that sounds like fun. Imagine if the Republic catches up with me. 'Sorry, Officer, I was just keeping her from throwing herself at a Sith Lord... Really? A Jedi? I had no idea!'

Or I could just wait for the hag to show up. But Dry-Rot could be keeping her alive so Liran will sense it and wait for her to show. It's what I would do.

"Liran, the warm up is almost done. I don't think she's-"

"There, look!"

Speak of the witch, here she comes. Through the hatch to the fuel tank and running across the hanger.

Followed by dozens of shiny red goggles. Moving too fast for their stealth field generators to compensate.

"Angel, do you know how to use a turret?"

A minute later, streaks of red light take down the assassins three at a time.

"She's aboard," Liran says over the comm between the turret mount and cockpit. Don't ask how she knows, if she's wrong, oh well.

Raise the ramp and lift the _Hawk_ off the deck.

I like this ship. She handles perfect. Especially when you're running for your life.

Take her out in the asteroid field.

"I need a copilot up here!" The orbital drift charts give me potential paths through the field, so I don't take her between two rocks about to smash together, or a dead end. Can't look at that and out there at the same time.

Red flashes across the ship's bow. _Harbinger_ is shooting at us.

"Liran! Get your _shebs_ up here!"

So she does. And brings a black figure with her. An assassin made it on board.

They're grappling over his vibroblade, since the one she confiscated has disappeared. Probably into another Sith. Liran kicks him in the knee.

A shot from _Harbinger_ grazes the _Hawk_.

If I don't take care of the ship, we all die for certain. Concentrate on piloting.

Liran rams Goggles's head into the back of my chair.

"Hey, I'm trying to keep us alive up here!"

"Quit... whining... and... _fly_," she grunts, punctuating each word with another Sith forehead to my spine. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

He breaks free. I can hear them fighting, too busy swerving around asteroids and _Harbinger_'s shots to see what's going on.

Goggles curses, muffled by his mask. Then something smacks into the copilot sensor console.

Liran. She blinks at me, blood on her forehead. "Kek, I'm exhausted," she slurs. "I call the shower first when this is over."

Then she lunges for my foot. What?

_She's taking my knife! My knife! Don't let a Jedi touch my knife!_ Jaq screams.

Shut up, do you want that sorry excuse for a Sith assassin to slaughter her?

Swerve, almost paint an asteroid grey and red with our hull. Liran slides under my console, Goggles smacks into a bulkhead.

"Blaster."

She grabs one from it's holster.

Throw the _Hawk_ into a corkscrew. Goggles tumbles around the cockpit. Liran's still under my chair, she doesn't go anywhere.

She twirls the blaster around her finger, pulls herself up.

_She isn't too bad_. Jaq's already gotten over her trying to take the knife.

_Harbinger_ singes the port hull.

_Thunk_. Then a blaster shot.

"Can you help me now, or are you having too much fun with your new friend?"

"One second." Another shot.

Flip the _Hawk_ a few more times. She responds fast as a one-man starfighter. I love this ship.

"What do you need?" Liran slides into the copilot chair. Blood's still pouring down her face, a lot. The stuff splattered on her neck and arms isn't hers, I hope.

"Keep an eye on that console" point to the one, almost crash into a spinning rock "tell me if I'm going somewhere I can't get out. Which way is closest to clear space?"

"Left. Down a little. That's right. Wave to Darth Dry-Rot, 'cause we're almost home free." She's slurring the words a little, blood drips on the sensor screen, she wipes it off. Hold's one hand to her forehead, concentrates, then takes it away. Eyes look sharp now. "Be careful! Are you _trying_ to get us killed?"

Yup. 'Verse is still in one piece.

Wait, realize something. Not in one piece for long. "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"Well, if they hit us, we're dead. If they keep missing us, we're still dead. These asteroids are full of Peragian fuel. Do you know how flammable-"

"Turn left. _Left_!"

Swerve around the rock coming my way. "That's _great_ odds."

"Cannot the rocks be destroyed by us as well as them?" Kreia's here. Don't know when she came in. "Destroy our enemies, before they destroy us."

"Do you know the odds that we'll be fast enough jumping into hyperspace before the blast reaches us?" Calculate them in my head. Bad. Real bad. Even with some intervention from the Force, since I've got one-and-an-ex Jedi in here.

"Then we die here. Choose now." She's talking to Liran.

It's important Liran makes this decision. Don't know why, but it is. Keep dodging. Wait.

Liran knows it. She looks out, blank.

Remembering something?

"Choose." Kreia hisses.

Liran flinches.

"Choose!"

Liran

"No. Not again. This isn't happening. All those soldiers..."

_Do it. You know you have to_. His voice in my head, urging, impatient. _If you don't, the war will go on. For how long? Every single death would be on your head. The Mandalorians might win._

They might not. Please don't make me do this, Revan.

"Hey!"What? "We're dying here. What do you want me to do?" Surprised Atton waited this long. Expected him to blow Kreia off and do what he wanted.

"Get us out of here. Leave the Sith for another day."

He nods. "Hold on. This might get a little rocky."

The _Ebon Hawk_ moves faster. Kreia retreats to the control room, there's only two chairs up here.

Can see the edge of the asteroid field. Almost there.

Look at the sensors. _Harbinger_ moved away. Why? It's outside the field, still firing at us. And what is that red light? It's getting brighter by the second...

Oh. "They ignited the field."

"Sithspit." He sounds more angry than afraid.

A few more twist and turns, the chain explosions have spread over most of the field.

And then we're free, and I see stars, they're so beautiful, and then all I see is streaks of blue, it's even more beautiful, and lean back, close my eyes, sigh.

I need a drink.

No, wait. Drink later. I need a nap.

"No way." Atton shoves me. "You called the shower. Get going. I want a turn."

Groan. On my feet.

"And get all those scrapes and bruises taken care of, or your face will look like a hutt's backside tomorrow. You hit that console pretty hard."

I hate it when the annoying ones are right. Revan was always right. He would rub it in, too. He was a smug son of a monkey lizard. Just like Atton, actually.

"Exile, we have things to discuss." Kreia scowls at me.

"Can it wait? I need to..." What's the word? Can't think, so tired.

"Take a bath, for one. You smell like Peragian fuel and blood." Atton looks down at the Sith, sprawled on the deckplates with two blaster scorches in his chest. "I'll pitch him out the airlock. Any others?"

"Just one in the main hold. I'd like my double-blade back before you pitch him. I can't get it out."

"Aw, I hate it when swords get stuck in the _shabuirs_."

Kreia turns the full force of her constantly projected derision to him.

He ignores her. "Since I'm not on break yet, apparently, and we've tangled with a bounty-hunting droid, cloaked assassins, a Sith Lord who looks like he sleeps with vibroblades, _and_ we've blown up a planet, can someone tell me exactly what the frag is going on?"

Kreia's wave of dislike is overpowering through the Force.

Atton is a little irritating at times... well, _most_ of the time, but the old woman's feelings are deeper than that. She's only known him for a few hours, and rates him lower than an insect crushed under her shoe. Being in a confined space with these two will be a blast, I can tell.

"Well, if you weren't paying attention, Dry-Rot thinks I'm still a Jedi. Presumably, he wants my head in his trophy room. That seems to be a common pattern for Sith."

"You are the last Jedi," Kreia says sharply.

"I can't be the only one left. And I am _not_ a Jedi, for the last time." The next person to call me Jedi will be lying in a pool of their own blood.

"It does not matter what you think. They think you are a Jedi, and will pursue you accordingly. And if they kill you, they will have won. Jedi or not, you are the closest thing left."

"No. No no no no no. I am _not_ starting a one-woman war against the Sith."

"Starting?" She scoffs. "Exile, this war has already begun. You need allies. We will help you fight."

"Enough with the we already." Atton pulls the knife out of his boot. I was grabbing the wrong one. "I don't recall signing up for the Suicidal Jedi Club's Anti-Sith Rally."

"Would you like to?" Not sure why I'm asking, still don't trust him.

Kreia frowns at my offer, but no protest.

"Do you do bake sales?" He flips his knife, doesn't look at me.

"No, but we have luncheons. Lightsaber-roasted assassins, Sith sandwiches."

The knife disappears in a blur. "I'll think about it."

Nod. He could be useful. Or trouble. We'll see. "Where are we headed?"

"Toward a generic hyperspace route. I'll scour the navicomputer and see where we can go from there. I'm making sure the _Harbinger_ isn't following first."

"It does not matter where we go, the journey is more important." Kreia. Sigh.

"Wait. Did something happen to your hand?"

She raises her left sleeve. A charred stump at her wrist. Says nothing.

"I'm sorry."

She ignores me, covers it. "You must regain control of your abilities. They failed you in battle today."

True. But I don't _want_ my abilities back. I want the Force to go away. Discuss this later. "It's lucky you're still alive."

"There is no luck, there is only the Force."

"You shouldn't have stayed behind!" Having Jedi propaganda spat at me is _not_ something I'll take, ever again.

"My hand, or our lives. You know war is sacrifice. More than anyone. Remember that. You may fight the Sith, only to realize when the time comes, you have nothing left to lose."

Pain in my chest. "This is nothing like the Mandalorian wars. _I have_ _nothing to lose_!"

The _Ebon Hawk_ agrees. The shout echos through it's empty halls. Very dramatic. Hate it.

Atton watches me, says nothing. He looks much colder, and smarter, than before.

"Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private, Exile."

"Don't stop your long, boring rant on my account. I was just getting sleepy eyed." Atton returns to his normal expression.

Lucky. He doesn't have to listen to pro-Jedi ramblings.

"Perhaps there we will be spared the opinions of imbeciles and fools. Join me when you are ready." She turns, leaves.

Silence. I don't want to chat with Kreia about this. It's her fault the Force is bothering me in the first place.

"You probably should check on her."

What? Now _he_'s supporting her? "She seemed fine to me."

"I thought you Jedi could sense each other's pain. It was rolling in waves off her. If I were in that much pain, I'd be screaming like a stuck mynock."

"An incredibly strong, manly mynock, I'm sure."

"Sarcasm does not become you."

"I'm glad we have something in common. I... I'm not used to sensing others."

"You should try being around people for a while, then. Don't have to get in their heads to figure them out. They're easier to cold-read than you Force users think."

Something about his words bother me.

Being around people.

The miners. Didn't think about all those dead miners until I saw HK-50 walk on to the administration level. Didn't I always nag that the Jedi were so distant because they never spent time with _people_? I've become what I hated most, what I joined the war to avoid; a selfish hermit. The miners died because of me. Me. Not an accident, not a mistake, directly because of me.

Sounds familiar. Just like...

Malachor.

I _am_ a walking death-magnet. Kreia and Atton should run while they're in one piece. Oh, wait, too late for Kreia. Who's next? At least if someone dismembers T3, I can put him back together, no problem.

"Look, I know I'm fun to be around, but the blank stare is a little creepy. Why don't you go take care of the hag? And shower. You desperately need one, Angel." He turns back to the controls.

Fine. I'm off to see the witch.


	9. She's Adopted!

1**By the way, the Exile model I'm using in this fic is the Asian one with the braid and gold... hair... thingy. Whatever it is. **

**I mention this because it's kind of important in this chapter. Heh heh.**

Kreia

The Exile comes my way. Time to tie another string to my puppet.

"Kreia? Are you alright?"

Oh, child, I am more than alright. I have hope again. In your darkness. "You have questions."

"How is your hand?"

A small loss, considering it's benefits. "I am no longer in pain." Healed the wound while I waited for her.

She is satisfied, sits before me. "I felt it happen."

"Is that so?" Sound surprised. "Our bond is even stronger than I thought. You know of Force bonds."

"Yes. Between a master and his padawan. It isn't usually this strong, right?"

"Some can feel each other's pain."

"I blacked out."

"It is not usually that severe."

"What would happen if one of us died?"

Ah, here it is. "I... am not sure. Considering the strength of your reaction, I would not test the fatality of such an action."

She frowns. "So if the Sith kill me, you might die too?"

"Perhaps."

The Exile expects to lose this war. She will fight harder if there are consequences to others. Press the advantage.

"You must allow me to retrain you in the ways of the Force."

"I'll need it." She's disgusted, the Force is a disease to her. The 'high' she received when I restored her connection has faded, she is lucid again. Good. "I will be your student, Kreia. For now. I trust you not to force-feed me Jedi doctrine."

"I do not ask for your trust, merely your ear. But... thank you."

She nods, uncomfortable. "Don't expect me to call you master."

"I do not. You should attend to that fool in the cockpit. I would not trust him. His thoughts are slippery. Sentients like him serve themselves first." He is unreadable. An outside factor, but surprisingly useful. I will tolerate his presence, for now. If I can separate him from the Exile for long enough, I can... _assess_ him as a threat.

"I don't think Atton is a fool." She voices no opinion on his trustworthiness, there she and I feel much the same. "There is something odd about him." Yet she wants him to assist us. An attachment to his presence is an unfortunate side affect of her drawing power from him.

"He is a fool and an imbecile. His potential lies downward, not up. You would do well to keep a close eye on him."

"I intend to." The Exile's aura is cold and stiff. She walks away. "And he has a name. Use it. We have to travel together, we have to get along."

She trusts no one. Not the fool, not me, and certainly not the Force.

Interesting.

Atton

What di'kut only programs one set of coordinates into their navicomputer?

And what _lobotomized_ di'kut makes that planet Telos? That's where the _Harbinger_ was supposed to bring Liran. Meaning Dry-Rot will know about it if he looks through the cruiser's logs. Meaning Telos might be his next stop, if he doesn't know a better place to pick up Jedi to play 'lightsaber duels' with.

_Meaning_ I'm about to have one unhappy, bloodstained angel on my hands.

_Sounds like fun_.

Ha ha. Remember, buddy, you feel my pain.

"So where are we headed?" Liran slides into the copilot seat. And yes, she is still bloody. See? I was right.

"Telos. It's the only place unlocked in the navicomp."

She frowns. "Really." Oh, how I've missed the waves of mistrust.

_She wears them like perfume or something._

"Look. If I had any control over where we were going, I'd point the _Hawk_'s nose toward Nar Shaddaa and scorch stars til we hit the Red Sector." The one place Jaq and I both like.

"What's special about Nar Shaddaa?"

"Nobody can find you there if you don't want to be found. Billions of war refugees, wanted criminals, crime lords, and assorted misfits all squashed together on one moon."

"You've been there often?"

Time for a subject change. "How long has it been since you've eaten? Not counting the nutrient goo from your kolto tank?"

She blinks, considers. "Almost four days, I suppose." Liran sounds completely disinterested. Not hungry in the slightest.

Force. At this rate, she's probably going to starve to death before the Sith catch up to her.

Go through my pack, give her a ration bar. "I took all the rations in that cylinder while you were off spelunking with the spiders. We have enough to last us til Telos."

She opens it, mutters something that could have been 'thank you' around a mouthful.

_Such a Lady._

At least she's unlikely to complain about our bad habits.

"Did you take care of the assassins?" Can barely make out her words with all that chewing.

"Yeah. Your double-blade is in the main hold."

Wait until she's done eating. Looks more alert already.

"How's the passenger? Still aging?"

A frown, but no eyebrow. "You could be nicer to her."

"Then she would have to find an excuse to hate me. Wouldn't want her to have to do that, would we?"

Now it's a glare. "Getting sympathy from you is like squeezing water from a stone."

"How much water you can get from a rock depends on what planet you're on, Angel."

There's that face.

_Her eyebrows look like skinny black worms having seizures._

Be nice. It's funny.

_Did you really ask me to _'be nice'_?_ _Me?_

Ignore him. "You never said how she was doing."

"Cryptic as always." Snorts. "Jedi."

"Hey, you two should start an academy. I'm sure you can spout nonsense with the best of them."

Another glare, then it disappears. Her blank face stares at me solemnly. "But to teach, first one must learn."

"What? Have you been drinking Peragian fuel?"

"And to learn, one must be willing to listen," she intones.

"Is there an alcohol stash? If so, can you direct me to it? If you didn't down the whole thing, I mean."

"Such worldly substances interfere with true enlightenment."

"What did Kreia _do_ to you?"

She breaks down, grins. It's... _devilish_. Maybe this whole quest thing will be more fun than I thought.

Jaq's choking on his own laughter.

"Oh, I get it. All the guys in the 'verse, and _I'm_ the one who ends up with a Jedi comedian running around in her underwear. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Liran casually scrapes dried blood off her face, looks at the gore under her fingernails.

"If you really want to, check the navicomp. It'll tell you where we're going, what our options are, and nothing else, because someone locked it tighter than a Hutt's vault."

She goes and stares at it.

"So, what happened?"

"What?" Liran flicks through the comp's options. Don't think she knows what she's doing. I'll make sure she didn't mess anything up after she leaves.

"To your lightsaber. We could have used it today."

Her face shuts down. "I... lost mine."

"I thought Jedi were supposed to be married to their lightsabers. What happened?"

"Exiles aren't allowed to keep them."

Whoops. "What did it look like?" I know what they looked like, but should keep her talking. "You didn't go red, did you?"

"Actually, I did. I had two. Sometimes I used a double blade, though."

_They were yellow. She's lying. Why?_

"Great. Maybe after we're dead you and Dry-Rot can have a party."

General Liran Ericho. Remember her. This Liran is different. Can't imagine her with a lightsaber. Couldn't imagine the General without one. Or two. With a Mandalorian speared on each.

_Now _that_ woman was _kandosii.

Jaq, admiring a Jedi. Who'd have thought?

"So... Telos it is?"

"Telos."

Silence. Does she intend to watch me for deception the whole trip?

"For Force's sake, Angel, go take a shower!"

Liran

After all have showered, eaten, and gotten some sleep, we gather in the main hold, around the enormous console/table, T3 by my side.

"When we get to Telos... there might be a few problems." I decide to start out. "I have a... reputation..."

"The Destroyer of Worlds?" Atton looks unconcerned. "There's no way they'll believe you weren't involved in the explosion. And Citadel Station relies on Peragian fuel to keep going. They are going to be royally _pissed_. Lucky for you, I have a plan."

Kreia watches me, says nothing. Studying me for whatever voodoo she's going to dump in my brain later. I have a feeling this will be a usual thing.

Great.

"The nature of this plan is..?" Try not to get snappy over the destroyer of worlds thing. At least he didn't call me the Butcher of Malachor, like the holonews.

"Fake credentials. Who would you like to be for a few days." He rubs his hands together, looking way too gleeful at the prospect of compounding our felonies with possession of false IDs and whatever other laws this will break.

Sigh. Not many other options. Even after all my time in exile, the galaxy still probably wants to lynch Liran Ericho for sacrificing all those Republic troops.

Can't really blame them.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ is a Corellian freighter, right? As they say, when on Alderaan..."

Atton stares at me, like I suggested we pose as a Twi'lek dancing troupe. "How long has it been since you've looked in the mirror?"

Honestly? Haven't looked myself in the eye since I went into exile. "Why?"

He ignores me, thinks for a minute, grins. "The only way you could pass as a Corellian is by marriage. We could-"

"Over my decaying, lightsaber charred corpse."

"Well, you have a better idea?"

Start to cross my arms, but when I lift them, it aches. Haven't swung a sword in a long time. "I could throw myself out an airlock."

Atton actually seems to consider this option until I speak again.

"Kreia and I could be mother and daughter. You'd be the hired help."

"Hey!"

T3 makes a fluctuating squeal that could be laughter.

"Any other ideas?" Feel the back of my head. Another bruise. Don't remember how to heal those. It's more difficult, more subtle, than mending bones and skin. "How about three people just traveling together? Nothing wrong with that. It's the truth."

"We're going to Telos."

"So?"

He smiles. "You know how I said I was... transporting... _goods_."

Oh yeah, that. "I remember, Jailbird."

"Well, I stopped for fuel at Peragus instead of Telos, even though it was out of my way, because they have a little black market problem. And a certain Lieutenant Dol Grenn has made it his personal crusade to deprive the residents of Citadel of spice, vice, and everything nice... or fun."

"Still not sure what that has to do with us. If you have a record-"

"It's not that. This guy is obsessed. Cargo searches, background checks, everything. And this is most likely a smuggler's ship. He's already going to have an eye on us. And three completely unrelated people traveling together usually means 'Exchange'."

I point at Kreia. Is there really a need to say anything?

"How else would we explain her, besides family? Not that the hag isn't an especially charming, loving old dear." If only Atton could use his awe-inspiring capacity for sarcasm to destroy Sith. Then we might actually have a chance in this war.

Kreia finally decides to chip in on the conversation. "I can think of no credible reason for the Exile to choose your company either, fool. The word 'charming' does not apply to you.

I can't really imagine anything Atton would say in response to that. At least, I can't imagine anything I want to hear. So... "Alright, fine. Family it is. Mother, son, daughter/sister."

"If you want to go as a genetic family, we'll have to rely on... politeness, with the way you look."

Somehow, I doubt Atton puts a lot of faith in politeness, considering how much he possesses. Namely, none.

I can imagine it, too.

"_So, how are you all related?"A friendly Telosian asks._

"_This is my mother, and that's my brother."_

"_Oh..." A doubtful look, from me to Atton, back again._

"_What, is there a problem?" Atton, sounding touchy. "You look like you have something to say."_

"_I, er... nice meeting you." Well meaning stranger beats a hasty retreat._

_People stare. Feel my cheeks reddening._

_Atton has to speak for me, glaring at them."You all should be ashamed of yourselves. It's not _her_ fault she's adopted."_

There is no way. No. Fragging. Way. Even thinking about it makes my face hot.

Come out of my horrible 'vision', look at Kreia and Atton. They're both watching me. They could pass as relatives, as long as no one pays attention.

I couldn't.

"Sooooo." There's a big grin on his face that I'd like to wipe off. With a vibroblade. "Angel?"

Sigh. "Yes?" I hate the Sith. If for nothing else, for making me do this.

"Well, I don't have a ring, but if you want me to get down on one knee-"

"Shut up, Atton."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It's a monstrous structure orbiting Telos. After Darth Malak did some 'terrestrial landscaping' (bombing the planet to slag), the Republic decided to start restoration work there. Except it was so bad, they couldn't stay on the surface long enough to make progress.

Thus, Citadel Station.

Spent more than three days en route, all of them with Kreia, meditating _(shudder)_ and doing other bothersome Force-user stuff. Can't find an alcohol stash, even though this is a smuggler's ship. Maybe Atton found one and is holding out on me, but I doubt it, since we often crossed paths in our private quests, and I quickly spit out an explanation to what I was _really_ looking for. He was unconvinced.

Kreia meditates. And preaches at me.. And meditates some more. Does she even sleep?

She told me all the important stuff about the Jedi Civil War. I missed a lot. Burying my head in a glass was even more effective than I thought it was.

Try not to think about what happened to Revan and Malak.

Rev got off easier than he deserved. What he deserved was-

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.

T3 is repairing the ship. He has his work cut out for him. This freighter is a trash heap. A loveable trash heap, which has been compared to_ me_, but a trash heap all the same.

Atton does pilot stuff, whatever that is. Mostly involves muttering long strings of numbers and assorted curses at various equipment in the cockpit. And occasionally kicking it. I don't think I could be a pilot. Too stressful.

Says the woman waging a one-Jedi(Well, _kind of_ Jedi) war against Dry-Rot and Force knows how many of those goggled freaks.

Come out of hyperspace. Confinement is almost over. Soon, I'll be able to stretch my legs, see _normal_ people...

"Kek, we're going to be waiting for hours!" Atton points out the viewport. "Docking takes forever here."

Groan. I'm not leaving the cockpit until we set down. Might have to talk to the authorities, and suppose I'm the Captain. I'm the only one who can spend more than thirty seconds with anyone else without uttering the words 'fool', 'hag', or 'trash compacter'.

Lean back in the copilot chair, spin it around.

"You know how to play pazaak?" He shuffles a deck.

Anything to stop the boredom. "I learn quick."

Pazaak is awful. Awful. Truly horrible.

It's also kind of addictive, even if I don't think I'm playing right.

"Er, red means it's a _negative_ number, right?"

His face twitches a bit. This is the third time I've asked what the red card means. The first was an honest question.

After that? Well, call it payback for the underwear jokes.

Two hours later, we dock. Finally.

Atton hands out the false IDs. The name is Liran Ilexe.

"Wait a minute." The four of us stand at the ramp, or... whatever T3 does when he isn't moving. Park? "Okay what are we doing on Citadel again?" Make sure the story is straight.

"We're a refugee family, displaced by the Jedi Civil War. Making our way back to Corellia, stopped here to refuel," Atton offers. He's a little irritable from the whole pazaak thing, and leaving his backpack aboard. He hid it in one of the smuggler's niches he found searching for booze as soon as we docked.

"Good. Let's go."

Walk down the ramp. There's five Telosian Security Force officers at the bottom.

Oh, frag.

A man with a scowl and a very large nose steps forward. "I am Lieutenant Dol Grenn of the TSF, and you are under arrest for suspicion in the destruction of Peragus II."

Great.

Atton sighs from behind me. "Tell me I'm not going to jail again."

**Next week, I'm going to change the title of this story to 'Accidental Hero'. It was the name I had picked out, and somehow lost it for two months. **

**Maybe the Jedi council made me forget it and I am a pawn in one of their manipulative schemes. -.-**

**I hope this doesn't mess with any mysterious internet voodoo and cause any inconvenience or, I don't know, delete the whole thing and make my computer explode, considering my electronic savvy.**

**If you hear a GLaDOS-esque death wail Friday morning, that's probably my laptop. Poor thing, it's "Master is such a cruel, cruel Master.**"


	10. The Geno What?

**Up next, a little AU! I tried writing Citadel station the right way, I really did, but couldn't stay awake long enough to make any progress. Peragus is so boring, everyone complains about it. Citadel is SO boring, everyone **_**forgets**_** to complain about it.**

**Nothing should affect the story later on, and I'll go back to normal after they get ahold of a shuttle.**

**Until then, I hope you enjoy. This chapter is dedicated to 'The Enigmatic Wormal'. You know who you are.**

Atton

Interrogation. At least I know all the tricks, although I doubt the TSF will take it quite as far as my experience stretches.

This will be fun.

Lieutenant Dol Grenn waits for us to sit before speaking. Liran is in the middle, she shouldn't be. Grenn knows who's in charge.

He stands. A traditional control tactic.

Our seats are against the wall, bad move. He can't walk behind us. Half his intimidation is null without any weapons, or cuffs attached to the seats.

_Are you complaining?_

Just saying. He could have _tried_ harder.

Not that it would work. I know better, Kreia looks bored by all this, and Liran is radiating so much hot anger, I think it's going to set my jacket on fire and melt the flesh off my arm.

"State your business on Citadel." Grenn doesn't start with control questions. Odd.

Liran is probably going to give up our cover story. Can't let her do that, then they'll have us on possession of fake identification. "Just stopping for fuel, Sir. We're trying to make it back to Corellia."

She doesn't even look at me, nods. Good.

Lies are shields. If it's damaged, you still hold on to it as long as you can. And with a good grip, you can hold on for a long time. Lies can take a lot of pounding, if they're built right.

And if there's one thing I'm good at building, it's a lie.

"Your name is 'Ilexe'?" He stares at our papers. They should hold up under a careful examination, don't know if Liran can do the same.

"That's what we said." Liran sounds much more aggressive than I thought she would. "Is there a problem with that?"

Grenn looks at her. "Your ship is registered as the _Ebon Hawk_. Did you know that ship was in the possession of the Republic? Before being _stolen_?"

"Sithspit. I knew that huttspawn sold her to us for too little. We should have bought the other freighter." Sigh, put my head in my hands. See Liran frown, from between my fingers.

"Great job, Atton. That was the rest of our savings." The skin at the edge of her mouth and eyes pull tight, make her look older.

It might be one of the first times I've seen her whole face respond to stimuli, and she's faking it. Seems like I should be making a note of this.

Grenn looks at Kreia. "Ma'am, do you have anything to add?"

The hag scowls at him, not even raising her head.

"She doesn't talk much anymore." Look up. I can't _believe_ I'm pretending to be that scow's son.

"I am quite capable of verbal communication, fool...ish boy." She adds on the last two syllables after Liran glances her way.

I wish _Liran_ was pretending to be Kreia's spawn. The witch treats me like a hated in-law anyway.

Grenn steps back, stares at each of us in turn. "Get comfortable. We'll be talking for quite a while."

Liran

"I was just getting used to not sleeping on my feet!"

"I'm sensing a pattern here," can't help but say to him.

"Perhaps he is destined for such a fate." It's the first time I've heard Kreia give him a jab, aside from the occasional death-glare and muttered 'fool'.

"Leave the trash talk to Liran. She does it better."

"Thank you, I try my best. Suggestions?" Cross my arms.

Our stories held, but Lieutenant Grenn is convinced we're from Peragus. After an hour of questioning how we 'procured' the _Ebon Hawk_, which Atton explained with a creative anecdote involving a Rodian named 'Wormal', a broken speeder, and a bowl of lentil stew.

Then the TSF commander moved on to our relationship with each other, opening another container of industrial strength discomfort, involving _another_ anecdote, this time about what happened to our wedding rings.

Answer? The enigmatic Wormal. _Shabuir_ was a pickpocket as well as a stolen ship dealer.

I think I want to meet this Rodian. Maybe he got me exiled, too, considering how much we're blaming on him. Doubt Grenn bought any of it.

At least we aren't sharing a single cell. I'm between Kreia and Atton, our cylindrical prisons are held by force fields, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow.

Hate it. Can't even spread my arms out in here without burning my elbows. Don't know how Atton stayed in one of these things for days without going foaming-at-the-mouth, glass-chewing bonkers. I'm almost there from just a few minutes.

"We didn't do anything wrong. The story will hold, as long as they don't make us take genetic tests."

"That facade is heavily flawed," Kreia says disapprovingly. "They will never believe I spawned such a pathetic creature as you, fool."

"Your face looks like it was plowed by crazed Ord Mantell farmers. They won't see anything past your wrinkles, although some Republic archeologists might try to buy you from us."

She gives him a distinctly old-ladyish death glare, like she's going to gouge his eyes out with a tea spoon or smother him with a doily or something.

Knowing Kreia, the 'something' would probably involve Force Lightning.

"He has a point."

"Which part?" he asks.

All of it. "As long as she looks the right age, they won't notice that you don't look like her. How long will they hold us?"

Nothing.

"Atton, you're the prison expert. How long?"

"Er, not that I've had _that_ much experience, but unless they decide you're a hazard, TSF will assign us an apartment and ground us while they waste time going over what happened. I'm sure we can escape then."

"So if we wait and be good little prisoners, we're going to be here when the Sith come calling?"

"Right." He leans against the strip of metal connecting the generators at the top and bottom of his force field. It's just wide enough to not burn his jacket.

Do the same. It's not too uncomfortable. Keep my arms tucked in.

Kreia kneels, meditates. Of course. She never does anything else.

"Spent a lot of time in these things?" Not like I can talk to Kreia. She'd just glare at Atton and say 'we will not speak of this in such company.'

"Define 'a lot'." He closes his eyes. "And think about whether you really want to know, if we're going to be traveling together."

True.

Could use this opportunity to bother him about the information he shouldn't know, but I don't particularly care. If he was a Sith and wanted me dead, he had plenty of chances on Peragus, and the trip here. If he's a wanted criminal, whoever's after him is probably after me too, so it's... immaterial.

_Completely_ immaterial.

Yeah, should get rid of him, soon as possible. Forget the potential usefulness. Just in case. I'm stuck with Kreia, and one mysterious companion is more that enough for this paranoid ex-hermit.

And the faster I can shake off the Sith stalking me, the sooner I can get back to being alone.

"When we leave Telos, I'll drop you off somewhere. Nar Shaddaa. How does that sound?"

He jerks, maybe he was already asleep on his feet. Looks at me.

"What, it's not like you'll offend me by agreeing too enthusiastically. I wish _I_ could run away from me."

Kreia stands. "Someone is coming."

Kreia

"Someone is coming."

The assassin walks in. He is weak enough to bend. He can be our method of escape.

And I know just the way. If it fails, the worst that could happen is the fool's death. This would not be a tragedy. It might even save me the effort of disposing of him myself.

But I doubt it will happen. He is more capable than he appears.

Not that this would be difficult to achieve.

Reach into the assassin's mind, search out the correct thoughts to manipulate. _There_ they are.

He speaks with the Exile, she responds, the fool interferes.

Tug the thought, gently. Feel him respond to it, a puppet on a string.

We will not be here long.

Liran

The prison door opens. A uniformed TSF officer walks in. "So this is the last of the Jedi. Must admit, I'm a little disappointed."

"Come here to gawk?" I ask, not moving. "I'm no Jedi." The TSF don't know who I am.

"You are Liran Ericho?" He smiles, and his voice is so slimy, I need a shower.

"That's me." If he knows enough to ask, he knows enough that my answer doesn't matter.

"Then it doesn't matter what you are, Liran." Hate him using my name. I'll have to scrub it off after he's done sticking his tongue on it. "I'm here to kill you."

Somehow, I'm not surprised.

"Why don't you walk out while you still can?" Atton sounds more irritated than anything else.

"The Sith sent you?" Lets get this over with. Squint at his credentials, hanging off his belt. Batu Rem. Fake, I'm sure. The TSF flunky is probably dead, shoved in a locker minus his uniform.

"No." Slimy smirks. He wants to play twenty questions, apparently.

"Ah, a bounty hunter. The Exchange, or freelance?"

"Look at the guy. Freelance, obviously." Atton points at him. "The Exchange only hires the best."

"I am more than skilled enough to work for the Exchange." The bounty hunter's face turns an unflattering blotchy color.

"Definitely freelance scum." He leans against the metal back of his force cage.

"No 'Freelance scum' would be clever enough to take the identity of one of the TSF officers, then temporarily short out the security cameras in this room, leaving me the perfect opportunity to-"

"Overload our force cages and make it look like an accident?" Atton looks at the ceiling of his cage, still unconcerned.

Uncomfortable silence from our brilliant assassin.

"Atton, did he just tell us his entire plan?"

"Yes, I believe he did. I've changed my mind. He's a prodigy. The Exchange would _beg_ for a chance to employ him."

Slimy glares at him, then walks to the cage controls.

Atton makes an unmistakably offensive hand gesture in his direction.

"The Genoharadan has assessed your potential impact on the Republic," Slimy presses a few buttons. "They have deemed you a threat."

I don't know what he's talking about, and I don't care. "Maybe the Gay-no-whoever needs to run the numbers again. I'm heading for the 'Rim as soon as I can, and I don't plan on coming back. _Ever_. The Republic will be free of my insidious scheming."

"You want us to let you go? You've been in Republic space for less than a standard month and you're already back to destroying planets." His fingers hover over the console. "It _will_ be free of you. Today."

"Who are the Gay-"

"Genoharadan! We are elite assassins. Much more competent that the _Exchange_." He spits the last word.

"Elite? Oh, now I understand. A family business. _That_'s how you got in." Atton puts on a thick accent, don't know the origin, "'My seestor's son. I'a _had_ to give'a da boy ah chance.'"

Now Slimy's eye is twitching, and he looks like he stood in the twin suns of Tatooine for a day and forgot to put zinc on his face.

"I bet you couldn't take me in a straight fight." Atton. Trying to get himself killed.

Out of the corner of my eye, Kreia waves her fingers in a familiar way.

Slimy sways a little on his feet, shakes his head. "A broken Jedi, an old woman, and a fool are no match for me." He looks at me. "Maybe I should test you out, Liran. Have a little fun before you 'become one with the Force'."

Suddenly, Atton has that cold look again. "Leave her alone." Okay, now I'm a _little_ surprised. Chivalry is not a quality my cell mate possesses.

"Or what?" Slimy steps right up to Atton's cage. Whatever Kreia's doing is working. Sort of.

"I'll kill you." For once, he looks like he's telling the truth.

"I'd like to see you try." Slimy turns to me again. "Would you like to see him try, Liran?"

Kreia's hand glides across the air.

"I'd rather do it myself."

He pokes my force field with a little _crack_. "As tempting as that sounds, you have an unfair advantage, my dear."

I might have to kill him for calling me 'Dear.' If Atton doesn't beat me to it.

"He'll just have to settle for me then." Atton smiles.

Kreia's fingers move again.

Slimy smiles back, and it's pretty creepy, both men standing there, grinning like kath hounds about to tear into each other.

Actually, that's a good description of the situation.

Slimy holsters the blaster he's been cradling the whole time and goes back to the console.

"Don't blink, Angel. You might miss the aortal spray." Atton leans back again, not concerned in the least.

This will be interesting.

_Beep._ His force cage powers down.

Slimy takes a defensive position, hands guarding his torso and face.

Atton moves forward, still grinning like a psycho in a knife shop.

_Crunch_.

Slimy hits the deck without so much as a farewell groan to this plane of existance, neck twisted at an angle I've never seen before.

It was... efficient.

"Amateur." Atton dusts off his hands, steps over the body, to the console. My cage and Kreia's shut down.

I can't really think of anything to say except, "You promised me a blood fountain." Well actually, I can think of something else to say, but I'm not going to shout 'Force-infused kek nuggets! How long would it take for you to teach me _that_?' His ego needs nothing from me to sustain itself.

Kreia taps one foot testily. "Exile, now is not the time to gape. We should leave this place."

"Got it. Atton, would that uniform fit you?"

He nudges Slimy with one boot. "Might be a little short, but yeah. What's the plan, Fearless Leader?"

Atton

Despite her squeamishness on Peragus, Liran strips the TSF uniform off the creepy bounty hunter in a flash, with an only slightly disgusted expression.

She tosses it to me. "Hurry up. Don't know how long he knocked out the security cameras."

Is this revenge for me seeing her in her skivvies? I think it is.

"Uh..." Suddenly the lightsaber scars on my chest and arms are all itchy. I think explaining those away would stretch even my creative genius. "Turn around."

She turns her back to me.

"Actually, I was talking to Kreia. I don't care if _you_ look."

"What makes you think I want to see you in your underwear?"

"Fine. You don't know what you're missing."

Liran snorts in a very un-Jedi-like way. "Get over yourself, Jailbird."

"Stop speaking, fool." The crone is already facing the opposite wall. "You are wasting time."

Jaq mutters insults at her while I get dressed.

"Do I have to wear the helmet?"

Liran turns around, hands it to me.

"You owe me for this." Put on the huge, round helmet. "Force, I must look ridiculous."

"That is _definitely _your color." Sarcastic little...

She holds out the bounty hunter's blaster and holster, then goes back in her cage. I dump the inept assassin in my cage, make sure Kreia is in hers.

Turn them back on. "Don't get in trouble while I'm gone."

Liran just leans against the back of her cage, arms crossed. "Don't get arrested in that getup. It would be an embarrassing holopic on your criminal file."

She has a point.

Walk out of the prison. The TSF office is almost empty, Lieutenant Grenn is nowhere to be seen, there's one female officer at the main console, holding down the fort.

She'll do.

"I've got a problem with the prisoners," I say, just out of her view. "Can you give me a hand? The woman won't calm down. Maybe you can help her."

She stands, walks over with a sigh. "What did you _do_? She was pretty cooperative when we brought her in."

Turn my back to her, wouldn't want her to recognize me as that guy who complained about the thorough weapons search they gave him after finding Jaq's hidden knife. "Well she's not calm now. I think she's going to burn herself on the force field."

The officer opens the door to the prison. Follow her in and shut it. Yank her blaster out of it's hip holster. "Hands up."

To her credit, the officer considered taking out my knee with a backward kick. Put an end to her considering with a rap to the base of her skull, right under the edge of her hideous, and useless, helmet.

That's the problem with most people. It's not that they don't know what to do, it's that they take too long _thinking_ about it.

Turn off the cages again.

"Is she okay?" Liran starts yanking the TSF's uniform off before I answer, so it's not bothering her much.

"Yeah. A little headache might be down the road, though."

Liran drags the undressed officer into her cage. "Your turn to look away."

"Why? It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Don't make me shoot you so soon after you saved our _shebse_, Atton."

Jaq laughs. I think he's starting to like Liran. Or maybe just her habit of threatening me. That could be it.

Liran takes a little more time than I did changing. "What were they thinking when they designed these?"

"I don't think they were." Liran looks even more sickly in the TSF colors, didn't know that was possible.

"Get in the system and find out where the _Hawk_ is. I'll find our gear." She walks away.

Would it kill you to say 'please'?

The TSF's security system is about as competent as the TSF itself.

Yeah, only took me 30 seconds to hack in. Find the docking bay where they put the freighter, the astromech is deactivated on board, that should save some time. Doubt Liran would leave the trash compacter.

"Ready?" She tosses me my blasters and a backpack, slings the double-blade over her shoulder. Kreia lurks behind her.

"I'll have to break into the impounding dock when we get there."

"T3?"

"He's there."

Liran leads the way out, marching like she owns the place, the TSF officer's badge and ID on her old battered belt.

The best of liars know it's more about body language than words. Liran has the walk down pat.

She's a good liar.

**Yes, I am trying to restore the Genoharadan plot. Nar Shaddaa is going to be so fun.**

**I apologize to all Italians everywhere. I am awful at accents.**

**Well, you already know _that._**

**And the person who figures out where I got the surname 'Ilexe' wins a gentlemanly bow from Mical. See? Now it's interactive!**


	11. Socially Deficient

**I'll try to make Citadel as quick as possible. Like removing a band-aid. Or cyanide poisoning. **

Liran

Despite my unusual weaponry, no one pays us any attention as we walk through Citadel Station.

"Maybe we should keep the uniforms. They're good camouflage."

Atton glares at me. "Speak for yourself. I'm setting this thing on fire when I'm done with it. It's itchy."

"Maybe Mister Gay-No-Whoever wasn't very clean."

He scowls. "Thanks. I feel so much better. If I catch any diseases from this, _you_ are paying for my treatment."

Pretend to consider this for a minute. "Fair enough. Euthanasia isn't too expensive."

"Hilarious. Tell me you grabbed our clothes."

"They're in the pack. By the way, you need a new jacket. Desperately."

"What's wrong with my jacket?" Much more defensive than I would expect. Yeesh, it's not a beloved pet.

"Cool it, Jailbird, just a suggestion. That thing looks like it's been through the war. And were those _bite_ marks on the right shoulder?"

"Heh, there's a great story to go with that."

"I bet."

Kreia

As I watch, the Force bond between the Exile and that fool tightens, strengthens. Why does she keep _speaking_ to him? "Idle conversation accomplishes nothing."

The Exile snaps to attention like the soldier she was. The fool's emotions are still indecipherable, but I see a flicker of something dark before he goes silent as well.

Once again, the Exile's manipulative abilities surprise me. It seems that the wound has increased, instead of diminished, them like I assumed.

It makes her harder to control. But one bond, with such a pathetic individual, cannot cause me too much trouble.

Yet.

Liran

It only takes a few minutes to get to the docks. Fortunately, the TSF has their own landing bay.

Walk to the officer 'guarding' the airlock. His helmet is perched on the control desk, and he's sitting.

Atton glances at the officer's ID and starts talking. "Hey, San. It's Rem. Yima and I need in the bay."

Who? Look at my ID. Lieutenant Yima. Oh.

"Why didn't I get a ping about..." San's eyes go glassy. "Rem and Yima need in the bay."

"Please let us in," I say politely.

"I will let you in."

"Thank you. You never saw us."

"You're welcome. I never saw you."

Go through the airlock, it seals behind us.

"Thanks, Kreia."

"You should practice manipulating minds." She sends disapproving vibes through our bond.

Is there no pleasing the woman? "I was never... comfortable with affecting minds."

"That is why you should practice."

"Not to interrupt the crone's galactic domination lessons, but can you argue _after_ we're out of here?"

Kreia glares at him, but says nothing. If she's so good at Force manipulation, why doesn't she use it to shut Atton up? Save her the headache.

Brianna

I was unable to download the contents of the navicomputer. I do not intend to leave empty-handed. Perhaps one of my sisters can unlock it.

The Exile's astromech resisted, but I eventually got the ship running... just enough to manually pilot it back to Mistress's academy. She will not be pleased that I stole the _Ebon Hawk._

Pry the last security docking clamp off the ship's underside. Four clamps was a bit excessive for a vessel of this size. I'm past all the TSF's security measures, finally ready to go.

And then I see them.

"Hey! That schutta is stealing the ship!"

Liran

Step into the hanger. The _Ebon Hawk_ is all alone, no guards.

Wait, the ramp is down. Why?

A figure in white walks up the ramp, turns, sees us.

"Hey! That schutta is stealing the ship!" Atton runs ahead, pulls out a blaster. Follow him.

The white thief dodges a few blaster bolts, dives into the _Hawk_. The ramp closes.

A security alarm goes off, loud and shrill.

Atton and Kreia both turn, run for the airlock. Why?

Oh, duh. After the ship is stolen, the TSF security system will lock the hanger down. Starting with the airlock.

Seconds after we're all out of the hanger, the airlock seals. I can hear the _Ebon Hawk_'s engines roaring.

Seconds after that, Atton's mouth opens.

I haven't heard half those words since the war. Such eloquence.

Kreia watches with matronly disapproval.

"We should get out of here. The TSF will be down here soon." There will be time for cursing later. And perhaps some kicking and screaming, considering just how bad the situation is.

"If the TSF guard doesn't see us leave, and if I can hack the security footage and alter it, they should assume we took the _Hawk_. And if we take out San, they'll assume we did it before escaping."

Oh, I forgot about San. "Killing a TSF officer... er, a real one, I mean, will put Grenn harder on our tail. Just smack him hard enough that he won't remember what he had for breakfast today, okay? Can you use his terminal to hack the cameras?"

"Unnecessary." Kreia directs her words at me, as usual. "I am disrupting the surveillance cameras, as I have been since we escaped." I'll have to ask her to teach me that technique. "Your plan, Exile?"

"I have one stealth field generator from Peragus. Not that I know how to use it."

"Mine's in my pack... aboard the _Hawk_." Atton kicks the wall. He's taking this even worse than me.

Stick one arm in my backpack. "Why did you leave it there again?" A little more irritably than necessary, but this is turning out to be one of those days.

"I didn't want 'Public flunkies digging through my stuff. Give me the generator."

Toss it to him. He clips it to his belt and unstraps the TSF helmet, hands it to me. "Be right back."

He disappears with a whispery noise. Catch myself before drawing the double-blade to dice some assassins.

I _hate _that sound. Good things never follow.

The door to the docks opens, I can see around the edge, San the TSF officer doesn't move from behind his desk. He must be waiting for backup. Thank Force for incompetence.

If you couldn't see the shock on his face, it looked like he just ducked to pick something up off the floor. Except he didn't come back up. Atton takes his place.

"Now you're just showing off."

"Ah, you're just jealous. Is the hag still making us invisible?"

Kreia makes a derisive noise in the back of her throat.

I'll take that as a yes. "Are you done playing? We have to get out of here."

He stands, takes his helmet back, carefully steps over San. "We need a bolt hole until we track down the _Hawk_."

"Or find another ship."

"T3." I'm surprised Atton even remembered the astromech. He's more concerned with his precious backpack.

"You're right. No man... er, droid, left behind. Let's hunt down the residential levels and go from there."

"Squatting in abandoned apartments?" Atton waits for me to say something.

Don't feel like telling him to shut it.

He shrugs. " Meh, I've slept in worse."

I don't doubt it.

Atton

Jaq is still whining about not getting to kill San when I slice the lock to an abandoned apartment. "This is way better than that place on Nar Shaddaa I had to crash in."

Liran needs some cheering up. Soon after we left the docks, the situation sunk in, and she looks like someone stole her beloved pet.

Well, the astromech. She really liked that little tin can.

"It's a one-room apartment. With one bed. And one refresher. And the TSF is crawling all over the place. We passed three patrols on the way here." She dumps her pack on the floor and sits beside it.

I fix the lock so no one else will walk in. Not that anyone would want to.

"I don't smell sewage, there's no broken bottles or cigarra butts to step on, and our neighbor isn't a spice chewing, opera singing, tone-deaf rodian with insomnia. It's better than my place."

She gives me a look that could be sympathy. Or self-pity. Maybe a combination. "Speaking of bottles, I could use one. Did you see a cantina?"

"Yeah. No TSF either. They must get their drinks somewhere else. Or Grenn doesn't let them get plastered."

"Wouldn't surprise me. The _shabuir_."

"Sadistic schutta. A gizka could do his job better. This is his fault."

Well, a Lieutenant Grenn hate-fest is better than wallowing in misery. We call down evil on him for a minute, then Liran claims the refresher for a shower.

Jaq is, as far as I can tell, taking a nap.

Or plotting my demise. He does that sometimes.

Kreia stands, looking out our one window. Walk up to her.

"What a view. Telos looks like kek."

She ignores me.

"Explain something to me."

The queen of condescending silence doesn't even turn her head. "I do not have the patience, nor the years, required to indulge you."

Charming. "She's supposed to be a Jedi. A powerful General."

No protest.

"Combat-wise, she's rusty, and I haven't seen her use the Force, except to heal or push a button." It's not something you can just stop using, it's like an arm; instinct, convenience, habit _makes_ you use it. It's a weakness that's easy to take advantage of, once you know how."Why?"

Kreia finally turns, now I wish she didn't. Nothing creepier than those eyes. Can she see me?

_I think she can_. Jaq is awake and listening now. Yup, this is collecting a real audience. _Always assume your enemy can see you._

Claws brush against my mind. Jaq pushes them away, more harshly than before. Liran isn't here, no need to play nice.

Her face twitches, other than that, she doesn't acknowledge the resistance. "Yes, Jedi are powerful, aren't they?" Can't she just answer the question? "But they rely too heavily on the Force. Take that away, and what is left is weaker than a being deaf to it. Even weaker than _you_."

_The Force isn't worth kek with the right drugs._ He sounds irritated. _I say we spike the biddy's tea. Show her what 'weakness' feels like._

"What does that have to do with Liran?"

"After she was exiled, she lost the Force. She only recently found it again."

"How?" Not sure if I'm asking how she lost it, or how she survived without it. Stick a Jedi in a room of those handy little Myrkr lizards, and eventually they'll go crazy.

Not that Liran is stable. I just meant she's not sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, babbling about 'the silence'.

She glares at me. "I doubt you would understand. As for her prowess in combat, conflict strengthens. Isolation weakens. She has been running from war. Trying to forget it. This battle with the Sith will make her stronger."

Or kill her.

"We do the Exile a disservice by speaking of this when she is not present." Kreia turns back to the window.

I have been dismissed.

Can feel Jaq thinking over the new information, running numbers, making connections with other data. Usually I think of the psycho as a nek battle dog. Times like this, he's a nek battle dog with a droid head welded on. A real bucket of sunshine, that's Jaq.

_Many Jedi-Hunter techniques wouldn't be as affective on her. Poison, suppressors-_

Well, it's a good thing we're not hunting her then.

Silence. He knows what 'the tone' means. Sometimes he forgets I can cause him a _lot_ of pain if I want to.

Liran

I open the conversation. "Ideas, anyone?"

We stand in a triangle. Atton and I are back in our clothes, the offensive TSF uniforms shoved in a backpack.

"A shuttle. They're all over the place. If we steal one, we should be able to hunt the _Hawk_ down. There's no way the thief could have unlocked the navicomputer, and he'd need it to get out of the solar system." Atton is right. As far as I know. Didn't understand any of his talk about the navicomp.

"If we steal a shuttle, it will attract more TSF attention. Can you rent one?"

"My credits are in my pack, how much do you have?"

Count the credits I took from my quarters on the _Harbinger_. "Sithspit. We're broke."

"It does not matter. You will find a way," Kreia says, somehow it's not a reassurance.

Suddenly this reminds me of the Mandalorian Wars, Rev, Alek, and me, around the hologram of a battlefield, planning our strategy.

Except Kreia doesn't have the size and strength of a wookie, and Atton isn't a military genius who has the Fates' eternal blessings. And I'm rusty.

"We're screwed." Didn't mean to say it aloud.

Yeah, have to work on those people skills.

Or hurry up and get a red lightsaber through my head. It'll probably happen anyway, I'd just be saving time.

"I'm going out." Grab my pack.

"With a Sith war sword strapped to your back?"

Oh. Didn't even realize I put it back on. It's already second nature to keep a weapon with me at all times.

I swear, the second you break those bad habits, they're back with a vengeance.

Throw the double-blade on the bed.

Look at them both. "Er... bye."

Kreia ignores me. Atton does a military salute, complete with mocking vibes I don't need the Force to sense.

Well, at least they aren't that good at farewells either. I'm not alone in my social deficiencies.

Hey, wait a minute.

I'm not alone.

Kreia

The Exile exudes contentment. Odd, considering the situation.

The moment she leaves, the fool starts pacing. I still cannot discern his thoughts.

Consider putting him in stasis so I can meditate in peace. But it is not a problem for long. Eventually, he leaves as well.

Alone at last.

Reach out, sense the Exile. She is wandering, not sure where to begin her search.

Stretch further. There is one more Force-sensitive aboard Citadel. This unfamiliar one is weaker.

Guide the Exile towards it. Perhaps this... search it's, _his_ mind, Chodo Habat can be of use to us.

If not, she can gain strength from his proximity.

The Exile stops, turns in the proper direction. She exudes irritation, considers ignoring what she believes to be guidance from the Force. But that would just be a childish whim.

Still, the sentiment is encouraging.


	12. Much Spit and Whining

**The website changed the character 'Exile' to 'Exile/Meetra Surik'. The woman is inescapable! Grrrrrr.**

**Ok. Done ranting now.**

Liran

I think I'm growing fond of human companionship again. Have to be sure I don't get too used to it. Withdraw is... unpleasant.

Neither of them are particularly charming, or pleasant to be around, although Atton is okay, I guess. As long as you don't mind the spacing-out, lying, and general shiftiness.

Not that enjoying company means I'm good at it. Awkward silences, full body cringes, and foot-in-mouth are in plentiful supply.

Wait. What is that?

It's like a hand, pulling me one direction... away from the cantina.

The Force. _Lovely._

Can't I have a drink first? Is that too much to ask?

Apparently it is.

Follow the tugging in my brain through Citadel station. It's bothersome, but I need a place to start.

Stop at a plaque on the wall, next to a door. The Ithorian Compound.

Whatever drew me here is inside.

Wave the door open.

"How may I help you?" It takes a minute for me to remember the language, translate it to basic in my head.

"I... I..." What can I say? The Force told me to come?

"You look confused, Miss. Are you alright?"

Stand there, trying to think of something. I must look like an idiot.

"Are you here to learn more about the restoration efforts?"

"Yes! Yes, that's why I'm here. Sorry, I've been so scatty lately..." Fake a laugh, rub my forehead.

"Come in." The Ithorian's black, round eyes look so trusting, I feel a little guilty just for lying to him. "It is good to see someone interested in our work.

The door closes behind me.

"Our greenhouse is open to visitors."

"Thank you."

Walk towards the... thing I'm here to see. Or the person.

Another Ithorian approaches me. "Please come with me. Chodo Habat would like to speak with you."

Maybe I should have brought a weapon after all.

Follow him, get ready to bolt if I have to. Ithorians are peaceful, but everybody else is trying to kill me, maybe the hammerheads renounced their pacifism and decided to take a stab at Jedi killing. It would suit my luck.

He leads me to a separate chamber, one of the two Ithorians in the room turns, looks at me. "Jedi. I sensed your arrival."

Atton

Liran might have a plan to get us out of here, but she's not sharing, and I'm not spending more time with Kreia than I have to.

Credits. We need credits. Could go to the cantina and shake down the pazaak sharks, or pick a few pockets.

Good thing I didn't put my deck in that backpack on the _Hawk_.

The backpack. Jaq's backpack. I hid it pretty well, but if someone finds it...

That would be bad. And pointless to worry about.

The cantina isn't too far away, only a few TSF officers patrolling. Thought Grenn would up the security after we escaped. Not to mention left a body in their jail.

Maybe they assumed the _Hawk_'s disappearance meant our disappearance too. I hope they did.

Liran

After Habat and I discussed the restoration work for a while, I tried to steer him towards business. The promised 'healing' doesn't mean much to me, I already have more swirling Force than I need, thank you very much, but he mentioned a shuttle somewhere between xenozoology and grousing about Czerka like a child tattling on a bully for stealing his lunch credits.

Maybe it's just the spittle that's putting me in an impatient mood. I'll have to wash saliva off my face later.

"What can I do to help?" Soften him up a little, do a few favors, _then_ ask about the shuttle.

"We ordered a new droid to replace the one Czerka stole." Ithorians' voices are odd to begin with, raspy and high, but Habat's takes on a distinctly whiny tone at the mention of Big Bad Czerka. "The TSF will not escort it from the docks, and we are afraid this one will not reach us either."

"You want me to escort the droid." Force, I'll be running errands til Dry-Rot comes knocking.

"When is the droid getting here?"

"0800, tomorrow. Can you help us, Jedi?"

"I'm not a Jedi." It's automatic by now.

"I apologize."

Awkward moment.

"I'll be at the docks tomorrow then." Try to sound cheerful. It doesn't work. I don't do cheerful. It's kind of synonymous with happy. I _definitely_ don't do happy.

"Thank you. Would you like to see our greenhouse before you leave? It is a calming place in the Force."

I could use calming. "Thank _you_. I would like that very much."

Atton

Mebla Dule wouldn't even bet against me after a few 'friendly' low-stakes games.

After that, she pulled out and cut her losses pretty quick, but it's enough to get me started.

Moving on to Corrun Falt: half-drunk Czerka flunky, not a big fan of his boss. Spent the whole match complaining about Jana Lorso.

"Do you know any way to make some fast credits around here?" I interrupt him in the middle of another rant, keep shuffling the deck. "Or how to get your hands on a shuttle?"

"Well, Czerka has one. They use it to..." He leans over the table and whispers "Transport Lorso's goons to the surface. Very hush hush and illegal, so I never told you."

"You didn't." Okay, maybe he's more than _half_-drunk. Good for me. "Why do they go to the surface?"

"Oh, some kek about security. I think it's to track down some Zabrak saboteur who escaped there a few months ago. Lorso wants him dead." He's slurring just a little, not sounding nearly as drunk as his words suggest. "If you _really_ wanted a shuttle, you could have her hire you as a mercenary, and go off the grid when she gives it to you. You'd have to deal with the pilot and other mercs, though."

They wouldn't be a problem. "You're practically making my nefarious plans for me, Falt." And it's not a bad plan... for a drunk.

"Yeah, just remember to mention I was the brains when you boast about it." He signals for another juma.

"You have reached the legal limit, Sir." The serving droid turns away.

Wow, this guy must be related to Liran. "I'll have one."

When it gets here, slide it over to Falt. Just in case. Don't want him to remember me.

"One more round of pazaak?"

He shakes his head. "Out of credits. How'd you do that?"

_You know, most of my opponents ask the same thing._

"You know, most of my opponents ask the same thing." Echo Jaq, sans demonic chuckle. We're talking about entirely different kinds of 'opponents'.

Leave Falt there. Pretty sure he forgot me in the time it took to push my chair back and stand.

Ah, the wonders of alcohol.

Should probably check out Czerka right now.

I collect my winnings.

"I saw that, human." A female Zeltron, armed to the teeth and flanked by two Gamorrean thugs, leans against the bar.

"Saw what?"

"You skifted Falt. Ten rounds in a row. Without him seeing a thing."

"Well." Shrug modestly. "He was pretty wasted. I doubt he'd have noticed anything, as long as I didn't skift his drink."

We both look at Falt, who has decided to take a nap with the pazaak deck as a pillow. He's drooling.

I touched those cards.

Yech. Wipe my hands on my pants.

"You have a point." The Zeltron turns back to me. "I heard your... 'nefarious plans'. What do you need a shuttle for?"

Suddenly I feel a little dizzy. "Someone stole my Captain's ship. We need it back. It hasn't left Telos."

_What are you doing? Why are you telling her-_

Shut up.

"Would that ship happen to be the _Ebon Hawk_?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"My... boss might have had something to do with it." Something about the way she says 'boss' catches my attention.

Give her another look-over. The guards, the weapons...

Exchange. Great.

_Zeltron_. I'm probably inhaling the pheromonal equivalent of truth serum. And my pills are in my pack. On the _Hawk_.

"Really?"

"Yes. Look, I know you're with that Jedi-"

"She's not a Jedi." It's automatic, after hearing Liran grit her teeth and spit it so many times in the three days it took to get here.

"Then you have nothing to worry about from me." The Exchange woman takes my words and uses them with a smoothness Jaq begrudgingly applauds. "Although I was considering using you as bait."

"Waste of time. She's not very fond of me. What can I do for you...?"

"Luxa. If your friend isn't a Jedi, she must have done something to spread the rumors. Is she 'capable'?"

Luxa has a slimy habit of making everyday words sound criminal. Like Jaq. Really, I think he's found his soul mate.

He snorts.

"Well, I have to help her out a lot with some things."

_Stop. Telling. The. Truth_, Jaq hisses.

I can't!

_Then try harder, or I'll give you nightmares._

You already do that.

"Really?" Her perma-smirk gets bigger.

Whatever she's secreting is almost choking now, Luxa must be winding up for a real interrogation.

"Sorry, I have to go." Back away. "Need to check out that merc job right now, before whoever took the _Hawk_ finds Jaq's stuff." Fierfek. I could just jump on a table and give everyone my service record to save time.

"Well if that doesn't pan out, I'm usually here. I could help your not-a-Jedi get her ship back."

I want to stay, gather more info, but not without the meds. I need to find the stuff to make more tonight. "Maybe later."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Goodbye, human. I'll be waiting here if you change your mind."

Practically run out of the cantina, gasp for air outside.

_I'm adding her to the list of 'things not approached without a fully charged blaster in one hand and a fileting knife in the other.'_

Liran

The greenhouse plants smell wonderful. I can feel them through the Force, vague, non-sentient.

My sensitivity is increasing. The life all around me should be drowning out everything else, but instead I can feel all the people on Citadel now, not just a glob of life in the general direction of the docks or the cantina.

"I will go to the docks tomorrow, before the droid arrives."

Chodo Habat sends out a wave of relief. "Thank you, Je- I mean Miss Ilexe." I remembered to give them the fake identity.

After a few more pleasantries I barely remember giving to people before my exile, I leave the Ithorian Compound. Ithorians aren't so bad, they just have... martyr tendencies.

Consult a public map, make my way back to the apartment.

Kreia doesn't look up from her meditating.

Atton is bored out his mind, from his expression. "Get anything done?"

"I'm playing errand girl to the Ithorians tomorrow. It's a start. They have a shuttle."

Looks like he's considering telling me something, but decides against it. "I went to the cantina." He tosses me a pouch.

Open it. Credits. A few hundred at least.

"Nothing illegal, or attention grabbing. Just a few pazaak games with a drunk."

"You've done more than I have, then."

He hands me a small bag. "Eat."

It's dried fruit. Shove it back at him. I'm not hungry.

"If you don't, I'll have to make another comment about your weight, and I'd like to survive the evening."

It would be sort of ungrateful for me to kill him right now, so I sit on the floor and eat the leathery bits. While I chew (Between this and the Republic dry rations, I'm going to die toothless), Atton keeps talking, crouched in front of me.

"I ran into this Zeltron, Luxa. Pretty sure she's working for the Exchange. She insinuated her boss stole the

_Hawk_."

My molars are cemented together with half-hydrated muja fruit, so all I can offer is a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. She could have just been trying to get a favor out of us. I told her you weren't a Jedi, she _claimed_ she didn't want to turn you in, but if she knows we didn't leave on the _Hawk_, word might get back to the TSF. Besides, she'll probably try to capture you after the 'favor' is done."

Finally swallow. "A Zeltron, you said? Did she-"

"Oh yeah. I thought I was going to pass out from all those pheromones, or I would have stayed and gotten more out of her." He opens a medkit lying on the floor and separates the chemicals. "I'm making more of those pills. They should help me keep a level head."

"You arranged to meet her again?"

"No, but she said she's usually in the cantina. Told me to come back."

"Does she want to talk to me?"

"She didn't say anything about it, but that's probably a bad idea. I made sure no one followed me back here, but she keeps a couple of goons with her. If she sees you, they might try something. Let me case the place first. I can be your contact... if you trust me not to sell you to them."

The dried fruit in my mouth goes sour. "The thought never even crossed my mind." That's a lie.

"Thanks." He knows it too, from the look on his face. But if he's willing to pretend, so am I. "Besides, I think Luxa likes me. Must be my roguish good looks."

"Or she wants to harvest your organs."

"I like my idea better."

"Yeah. You keep thinking that." Close the bag. Lost my appetite. "You can meet her tomorrow. Don't commit us to anything."

Nod.

"And _be careful_. I don't want to have to break you out of some slave shipment to Nar Shaddaa. Or hunt down your kidneys on the black market."

The grin he passes my way looks sharp, like when he smiled at Batu Rem before snapping his neck. "Don't worry about me, Angel. I never turn my back on people who mess with my head."

Atton

Sleeping in the same room as the crone is about as appealing as a waterboarding session.

_I can't believe you find this fun._

Being _subjected_ to one, psychopath. Yeesh.

Liran gave the only bed to Kreia and we both slept on the floor.

Oh yeah, and Liran looks kind of like a cadaver while she's out. Flat on her back, stiff, arms folded, pale skin, face dry and pinched. She's completely still. Her eyelids don't even flicker.

It's immensely disturbing.

I turn away from her. Jaq wants to stare at her for some unknown, hopefully remaining as such, reason, and I think I've reached my creepy quota today, with all the neck-snapping and stealth attacks.

It's going to be hard to keep my skills from attracting Liran's attention. So far, she doesn't seem to care what I can do, as long as I don't stab her in the back. But that might change.

Almost told her about my initiation job with Czerka. But it's illegal, and I'm not sure if she'll mind. If I get a shuttle, she probably won't care how, as long as I assure her Czerka can't risk reporting the theft to the TSF, since the merc migration would come into light.

All I have to do is help her back to the _Hawk_. Then, I've paid my debt, and the Empath will be satisfied. End of problem, everybody gets what they want. Except for Jaq, and that's an added bonus.

_Funny. Just remember; my pain is your's._

You know what's even funnier? I have a higher tolerance for pain than you.

_You're acting... different. You usually ignore me. Why aren't you now?_

Shut up. I'm tired. Let me sleep for once.

_Are you... afraid?_

Me, afraid of you? _I'm_ the one in control.

_I never asked if you were afraid of _me_. My question was going to be; are you afraid of what will happen if I regain control?_

Liran isn't a Jedi. She has nothing to be worried about from you.

It's more of an order than a statement, but Jaq rarely does as I ask. I don't know why I bother.

_Then why are you worried?_

I don't _worry_. Not about other people. Now be quiet.

_Sleep well, 'Atton'. You're going to need it. _

Oh, I hate him.


	13. Breaking Bones and Bonding

**Citadel Station isn't moving as fast as I'd like, but they should be meeting Bao-Dur soon, and then things get interesting again. ****More Atton abuse ahead. It's so fun to pick on him. There is a purpose, though.**

**My chapters will probably get a little longer from here on in.**

Liran

I want my hermit status back.

Sharing a room with the ancient undead and the jailbird is not conducive to a peaceful night's sleep. I had no trouble falling asleep. Staying there was another matter.

Kreia didn't give me any problems, I didn't get any of her thoughts or dreams.

Atton, on the other hand... Nothing disturbs your REM cycle like a man shouting '_It's your turn to draw first, frag it!_' in the middle of the night.

Put on my armor plates, Kreia is meditating again, Atton is still sleeping. Give him a light kick in the side.

"Zaaa-whazzit?"

"You talk in your sleep, schutta. _Loudly_."

"Really?" He sits up, blinks at me. "Never had any complaints before."

Since it is too early in the day for mocking, I will be generous and ignore that statement. "I'm off to help the Ithorians. Don't let Luxa steal a lung."

"Have fun. Don't get captured by a slimy bounty hunter. And don't forget to eat something."

"Yes, Mother."

There's time to stop on the way at a shop and buy myself a cheap hooded cloak, and a ration bar. Don't want to bother with food at all, but Atton's constant nagging must be leaking into my brain.

Keep an eye on the security cameras, avoid those I can, casually walk past the rest, chewing on my bar. The Sith war sword is slung over my shoulder, shift it away from view. It's more likely to get recognized than me. A few people stare at it, but most don't care. They have normal lives to capture their attention.

I envy them.

The Ithorian at the docks greets me with a whining rasp, beckons toward the Restoration effort's personal hanger. "Thank you for your assistance, Master Jedi."

Grit my teeth. Ignore the title. "You're welcome. Where's the droid?"

He takes me to the storage room in the hanger, past the shuttle.

I could steal it, but Kreia and Atton aren't here, I'd have to pick them up before making my escape. The TSF would be on me before I had the chance.

Back to the solid plan of kissing Chodo Habat's _shebs_. Joy.

"Greetings, sentient." The protocol droid jerks towards me, it's way of walking looks more like a seizure than HK-50's almost graceful steps.

Am I really getting nostalgic over that homicidal bounty hunting scrap heap?

"You will follow me to the Ithorian Compound. Do not leave my side, unless I engage in combat. Then you will retreat to a safe distance and wait for the threat to be eliminated. Got it?"

"I will follow your orders, Mistress."

I can't believe how irritating servile droids are.

"Are you coming?"Ask the Ithorian.

"I do not believe I could be of use to you, Master Jedi."

My jaw makes a popping sound.

Ouch. Must remember not to clench so hard.

He (or she, I have no idea, which somehow makes this moment even _more_ awkward) hands me a datapad. "This is the fastest calculated path back to the compound. The droid might overheat if it goes too far."How cheap is the thing?

He seems to read my mind. "Funding is greatly reduced right now." He sighs. Well, it sounds like a sigh.

Look at the route. It takes a few back corridors, likely not under TSF surveillance. If Czerka plans to steal this piece of kek, they'll probably try there, but I can deal with hired mercs, and I won't have to worry about being seen.

"Tell Habat I'll be there soon." Put on my new cloak and walk out, the droid on my heels.

It's perfect. I'm tall enough (and, as Atton oh so tactfully mentioned, have little in the way of 'assets') to pass for a male in the cloak.

More people give me funny looks, but after I duck into the alley-like shortcuts through Citadel, it's almost abandoned.

The lighting is the same kind as the rest of the station, so the seedy undercity atmosphere is ruined, but I'm still getting shivers.

I feel like I'm being followed.

Stretch out my senses, probe for hostile intent or a large group of sentients.

Nothing catches my attention. Hm.

The droid's feet _clink clink click_ behind me.

"Stop."

The corridor goes silent, except for a single pair of footsteps. A woman brushes past me.

"Keep your sensors tuned for someone behind us."

"Yes, Mistress."

Start walking again.

I see the dark spot long before we reach it.

Looks like someone removed or covered the lighting in a short strip of the corridor. It screams 'trap', at least now I know _where_ I'm going to get mugged. In about twenty meters-

_Duck_. Feel the instinct and act on it at the same time. Knuckles skim the back of my neck.

Reach up, where the fist should be. My hands don't touch a thing.

The next blow catches me on the temple. My vision darkens around the edges, but I sense a finishing uppercut soon enough to dodge it. Fling an elbow out randomly, it connects with something in apparently empty space.

_Hsssshhh_. A sound like moisture leaving the air.

Sithspit.

My opponent grabs the hem of my cloak and yanks. I slip out of it before it catches me around the neck, pivot to face my enemy head on.

The Force guides my blow, fist moving on it's own will, before I even see his face.

Atton

_Crunch_.

If Liran doesn't like my nose, there are subtler ways to tell me.

That's what I plan to say. What actually comes out is something about her mother. Fortunately, I'm kind of hard to understand, since I sound like a Selkath.

As usual, when I'm in pain, Jaq shuts his imaginary mouth and absorbs most of it.

Liran gets over her shock quickly and stands there, arms crossed, watching me spew curses and blood.

And, oh, is she pissed.

She draws the double-blade. I never saw it under that fragging cloak."When you're done choking on your own vital fluids, please explain yourself." She sounds... very un-Jedi-like. Like she might _sell_ my kidneys to Luxa unless I speak very carefully.

My face throbs. By the way, breathing through a broken nose makes this awful noise.

It would really suck for that to be the last sound I hear.

"You _fweeee_ didn't _suucccc_ tell me _fweeeee_ about the _suuucc_ droid." Give up on talking. I'm half blinded by reflex tears, but she looks a little less angry.

"Let me fix it." She slings the sword and steps up.

Jaq braces for more pain.

Liran holds my head in place with one hand and grabs my nose with the other. This is going to-

"Fierfek!" The bone grinds back into place, I can hear it scrape across my skull. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

Jaq swallows the agony without comment, but I can almost feel him shuddering in whatever dingy corner of my mind he lurks.

Suddenly it's gone, replaced by the vague soreness of a day-old bruise. Force healing.

Liran removes her death-grip from my face and backs away, one hand over her back, touching the Sith war sword. "Talk." Suddenly I wonder if she thinks I sold her out to Luxa.

"I heard in the cantina that Czerka hires mercenaries and sends them to Telos' surface in their shuttle. So I spoke to the rep, Jana Lorso. She said they needed the droid, hired me to bring it to her. I found out which path the Ithorians planned on taking and... you know the rest." Point at the darkened part of the hall.

"Mistress, may I resume accompanying you?" A prissy humanoid clanker wobbles back to her.

Liran's hand slides off her blade, and her expression relaxes a little. "Let's get this droid where it belongs."

"You're bringing it to the hammerheads? Czerka will give us credits. And they have a shuttle too." Probably shouldn't argue with her right now. Oh well.

"You plan on taking out a shuttle full of mercs? The Ithorians would _give_ us a shuttle. Less hassle. And I don't want to deal with Czerka. They're slimy as Hutts, and just as greedy."

After a few minutes bickering that I'm only half paying attention to, Liran growls and gestures for the accounting droid to follow her. "Stop being difficult. If you want the droid, you're going to have to take him from me."

Stay quiet. I don't care that much, but there's no way I was just going to give the droid up without causing her a headache first.

It's really fortunate for her I decided to only knock the droid's guard unconscience, or else I'd have caved her skull before seeing her face and stopping in time to be a punching bag.

_You're going soft. I told you we should have just killed the guard._

Yeah, then Liran would be dead.

No more comments from him. Surprised that even worked.

Now I'm following her, wiping blood off my nose. Sound familiar?

Liran

It bothers me that I didn't feel Atton coming.

My fist hurts, but I'm not going to think about the reason until I leave the Ithorians. They're pretty perceptive to human emotions. Anger might cause a miscommunication that I can't afford.

Chodo Habat thanked me quite enthusiastically.

I'd rather have a shuttle.

Atton waited outside. With two fresh black eyes, it might give a passivist Ithorian the wrong impression. Unless I plan to chalk it up to a 'friendly dispute between companions'. By the way, those bruise suit him in my opinion. Looks like he's wearing a mask.

"Have you already met with Luxa?" We're walking away from the compound.

"No." He hasn't spoken since the Great Accounting Droid Debacle. "Did you get the shuttle?"

"No. Just an invitation to tea this afternoon." Sigh. _Tea_. "I should be running from homicidal Sith, and I'm sitting around drinking burnt plant leaves."

"Hm."

"What's eating you?"

"Nothing. Speaking of eating-"

"I'm not hungry!" Force, I sound like a five-year-old. Calm down. "Do I really look that bad?"

He studies me for a minute. "If you want to survive, you have to take care of yourself. Like the hag said, this is _war_."

Take the bag of fruit hanging off my belt, pop a chunk in my mouth. Atton has a point. War. Again.

And it's the closest he's getting to an apology. He hasn't said sorry about going behind my back with Czerka. Schutta. For a minute, I thought he had cut a deal with Luxa and sold me to the Exchange.

"Putting the entertainment value of breaking your nose aside, we need to coordinate our efforts."

"Thanks."

"Well, it made a lovely crunchy noise. Very therapeutic."

"Rein in the Sithish glee, Angel. I don't think you'd look good with yellow eyes. While you're having teatime with the hammerheads, I'll see what I can wring out of the purple schemer."

Not sure if the term 'wring' is literal or just a phrase. Kind of hard to tell with Atton. "Do you think Luxa is lying about the _Hawk_?"

"Probably. But I doubt the TSF broadcasted the theft, so if they found out we didn't leave with the _Hawk_, and who you really are, they might know something we can use to track it down."

"If the Exchange has a foothold on Citadel, where do you think they're based?"

"Not sure, but there's an office called 'Bumani Exchange Corporation' with a Rodian guard outside somewhere around here. Seems a little suspicious. You'd think they would be more subtle. Want me to ask Luxa?"

"Define 'ask'."

"The most roundabout, sleazy, under the table way possible. I'm good at sleazy."

Shocker. "Go ahead. Want a chunk of dehydrated mango? It looks disturbingly like what came out when I cleaved that Sith assassin's skull on the _Harbinger_." Hold it between two fingers.

"The resemblance is uncanny." He takes it. "Although I think the mango has more smarts."

Awkward as our conversation feels, it's probably the most calm and civil we've been to each other since I met Atton. Kreia would heartily disapprove.

We're wandering through the residential sector. No TSF in sight, but I'll keep an eye out. My double-blade is getting a few funny looks, but it's not too noticeable with the cloak, so most don't see it.

"Angel, can I ask you something?"

Shrug. "Shoot."

"On the _Harbinger_. What happened?"

Great, I'm not sure I know the answer myself. "That Sith Lord... he tried to... connect with me."

"Connect." It's not a question.

"Yeah, a sort of... Force bond. You can exchange memories, emotions, sensations, knowledge."

"Sensations." Why is he doing that?

"He... it... hurt." There's nothing else to say, no way to explain it to someone who has never had a Force bond. "That medic talked about how he shouldn't be alive, but he is. It's pain. The pain is keeping him alive. I think he's drawing power from it, somehow."

"So he transferred some of this pain through the connection?"

"A little. At least, I think he did."

"Why would he try to bond with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe he wanted something from my mind, maybe he wanted me paralyzed, maybe-"

"Maybe he wanted you to feel his pain." His face is blank.

Focus on his presence, not close enough to invade privacy or attract attention.

Most non-Force-sensitives fade into their surroundings, their auras mixing and blurring together. Jedi, and Sith, draw the Force to themselves, leaving a sharper edge between themselves and their environment.

Atton's is sharp and contained, his emotions drowned out by something like background interference, seemingly random feelings clouding my senses.

Wonder if this has anything to do with my not sensing him in the hallway. Or maybe it's just my ineptitude.

"What about the fuel line? Was it Dry Rot again?" He interrupts my spying.

"He cut off Kreia's hand."

"And you felt it." He has that sharp look again, the one that makes him look much smarter than usual. "You have a Force bond with Kreia."

At least I didn't have to explain that to him.

"It isn't supposed to be that strong of a reaction... right?"

"No, it's not."

There's a sort of awkward silence now, less of a 'what can we talk about now?' silence and more of a 'what can we talk about not involving Sith?'

Probably nothing. Besides, we're overdue for another argument, unless bone-snapping has satisfied the Gods of Uncomfortable Relationships for today.

Doubt it. If my life is a meter of their hunger, they are _insatiable_.

"Did they have anything besides dried fruit?" This seems a safe subject.

"It was on sale. I'm a sucker for paying less that the standard price."

_Exile_.

"Sithspit!" Has she been listening in on our conversation?

_If you are done attempting to explain things to the fool that are beyond his comprehension, I wish to speak with you._

Yes?

_I do not approve of this... alliance_ _with Chodo Habat_.

Why not?

_You are wasting your energy on him. His problems are his own, and pale beside yours._

I agree, but we need his resources.

She's quiet. That satisfied her, apparently.

"Hello? Are you still in there?" Atton waves a hand in front of my face.

"I spoke with Kreia."

"She's in your _head_?" The mere thought seems to make him queasy.

Come to think of it, me too.

Atton

After a few semi-relaxed hours, it's back to shady Exchange meetings in bars and afternoon tea with pacifists.

Funny, I think Liran got the short end. At least I get alcohol out of the deal. Although, who knows what's in that tea. Some cultures get a 'spiritual experience' out of that kind of thing.

Heh. Try to imagine Liran stoned...

Nope. Can't do it.

Enter the cantina, look for Luxa. She's in the same spot as yesterday, the same little smirk on her lavender face.

"You're back."

After a good dose of my special meds, I can't tell if she's using pheromones.

Unfortunately, no pheromones means no sleepy Jaq.

_Potential trouble with that knife on her belt._

He's in droid hound mode again. It's irritating, but could be useful if this turns ugly.

_The Gamorreans are too slow to be much trouble. A pair of face shots would do._

I'll keep that in mind.

I'm talking to Jaq while exchanging casual greetings/veiled threats and false smiles with Luxa. She has pointy yellow teeth.

_Bite hazard_.

Now you're just being ridiculous. Relax. She won't risk taking us out here, and we could handle her anyway.

Ominous silence from Mad Jaq. Now I can concentrate on the Zeltron.

"You wouldn't happen to work for the Bumani Exchange Corporation, would you?"

She stops, mid complaint about her boss, a Quarren named Loppak Slusk, who is a 'chuba-faced schutta', from what I've been half hearing. "That depends on why you're asking."

"I might have business with them. If they can locate a certain bird for me."

"That might be arranged." She returns to a close-mouthed smirk, much less disturbing than the sunny fangs. "For the right price."

"I'm a bit low on funds right now."

"Credits aren't in question. Yesterday you said you were... capable." There's the creepy pause again.

"I don't recall that, but, yeah, I am. What can I do for you?"

"Loppak Slusk is a slimy _shabuir_." She spits. The Gamorreans don't even shift their beady little eyes from their plates of... whatever they're eating. "The Exchange doesn't allow breaks in the chain of command."

That's a lie, but who cares? "And these two points are connected how?"

"If I were in charge of the operations on Citadel, I could give you the _Ebon Hawk_... assuming the Exchange has the _Ebon Hawk_, of course." She winks.

Luxa is lying through her sharp little teeth.

She's a good liar, has no obvious tells I can see, but I can _feel_ it. It's like a twitch in my brain, one I've come to recognize over the years, but wasn't able to understand where it came from... until the Empath, of course.

"I need to consult my friend before agreeing to anything." After this morning, I'd ask Liran before sneezing. My head feels like a lump of tenderized raw meat.

_Your head_ is _a lump of tenderized raw meat. A few years ago, she wouldn't have landed that hit_.

Luxa keeps smirking, but it's hard now. She's got something snide to say, so I cut her off before she can start.

"There's no way I'm going in without backup. _Trustworthy_ backup. I don't trust you as far as I could throw you."

_Judging by her weight, mass, and our muscle quality, 10 feet. You'd only trust her 3.5 feet._

Funny. Your math is wrong.

Jaq's voice sounded weaker than usual. The pills are wearing off.

"I'll go hunt her down now and get right back to you." Take a step back. "After all, Slusk isn't going to drop dead to save us the trouble."

She doesn't look offended in the least. A little disappointed, maybe, but I don't think she expected me to slit Liran's throat for her either.

"Maybe you should bring her back with you. Let us talk face to face.

Face to pheromones is more like it. "We'll see."

Liran

"Would you like more tea, Ilexe?" Habat passes me the teapot.

The Ithorians are starting to grow on me. That might just be their tea, though. "Thank you."

I'm not used to social niceties anymore, but it's coming back with every polite phrase Habat and Moza hiss at me. And I'm getting more patient about Habat's whining. He's moved on the Exchange, who keeps trying to steal some of their botanical specimens.

Maybe next time, the Ithorians shouldn't try to restore a planet with some weeds you can get high off after a little chemistry.

We're sitting in the greenhouse, and the plants seem to whisper to me through the Force. Well, it's less of a communication, and more of a comforting presence, like I can feel the life, hear the breathing of them all.

And a familiar presence at the entrance of the compound.

Sigh. Back to work.

"Is he here for you?" Habat asks. Must have sensed Atton.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Moza hands me a large thermos. "It is rare to find a human fond of our tea. You are welcome here anytime, Ilexe." They won't call me Liran, some respect thing, and Jedi is out of the question, so my last name is it.

Say goodbye to both and leave the greenhouse.

"Have a good tea party, Angel?" Find Atton in the main room waiting for me.

We walk out. "Habat isn't so bad when he isn't complaining about Czerka or talking about my 'wound'."

"Wound?"

"He can sense my... war injuries. Keeps asking if I'll let him heal them."

"That's a little creepy."

"I think he means well." Try not to let it bother me that a casual Force User like Habat can see my scars. I don't understand them myself. What if they mean I'm-

"Luxa wants to meet you." He interrupts. "She's lying about the _Hawk_, but still might know something useful."

"Does she plan on turning me in for the bounty?"

"Definitely. But I don't think she'd attack us in the cantina. Too many witnesses, surveillance cameras everywhere. Most likely, she wants to see your face so she knows who to shoot first when she comes after us. Or make sure I didn't invent you to get a foot in the Exchange."

"Hm. Does she want me now?"

"Yeah. About that." He hands me pills. "They aren't as strong, or last as long, as the ones you took on Peragus. I had to cut a few hard-to-get ingredients. And with your absorption rate..."

"Oh, I won't need a long time for this meeting."

**Lui: Thanks for the honest review of that awful parody, it was really helpful. I'll edit the thing until it screams for mercy and eventually repost it. (And I'm glad you like Accidental Hero anyway)**

**Daim: Flashbacks coming up ASAP. Thanks for the input.**

**If anyone else has requests, go ahead and speak up. Cut content, dialogue, plot, anything. I can't promise to use them all in Accidental Hero, but I'll do my best. **

**And maybe they'll show up somewhere else...**

**Thank you for all the reviews!**


	14. Shady Dealings

Liran

I hate Luxa already.

We walked into the cantina, I went straight for the only Zeltron.

She gave me a fake smile and "Hello, beautiful."

Fine. I hate Luxa _and_ find her creepy.

Sliminess aside, it's easier to deal with her once Atton starts talking. They're grinning at each other with this 'I'll shiv you in the spine without messing up my great hair if you pull something cute, sleemo' smile.

So I try to convince myself that I have great hair.

It doesn't take much to shoot that down. My hair used to be nice, but after malnutrition and neglect, it feels brittle. I just shove it into a ratty bun most days. I should cut it off again. It'll get in the way in a fight.

Depressing as it is, this reasoning distracts me from the veiled threats and snide comments to my left.

Take a barstool, signal the service droid for a juma.

Pick up the glass, take a sip. Yuck. Barely any bite in it. I swear, the stuff gets more watery every time I order it. Wonder if the droid gave me non-alcoholic on accident.

Alright, the lady's had her fun. Time for business. "So, what can you do for us if we kill the squid head?" Set the glass down.

Luxa grins. "Straight to the point. Good."

Atton said something similar when we first met. I hated the sleaziness then. I'll ignore it from him, because (Force help me) I need him, and I doubt he's going to shoot me in the back of the head.

Luxa doesn't merit the same courtesy.

"Out with it. I have things to do. Places to be. Bounty hunters to avoid. You know, being hunted like an animal, _not_ living out my life. Thanks for interrupting that, by the way."

She looks shocked for a second. Maybe she expected a diplomatic Jedi.

"Aren't I a disappointment? The Jedi thought so too. But you already know that. It's where I got my title."

"I wasn't looking for a Jedi." The false smiles are gone, she looks cold.

"Good. Tell your bosses all about me. No lightsaber, no robes, and _very_ little serenity."

"What do you want?" Luxa asks.

"You. Not bothering the Ithorians. Habat has been complaining about you, I'm sick of listening to it. Find your own fragging hallucinogens. Don't alert the TSF to our presence. Does the Exchange have a shuttle?"

"No. The customers are up here, not on the surface." She snorts. Yeah, like I should have known.

"Then credits. Three thousand. Break any part of the agreement, I break a part of _you_. Clear?"

She blinks at me. Atton is grinning like an idiot.

"I'll take that as a yes." Swirl my drink, down it fast as possible. "Fierfek, this stuff is weak. Slusk will be gone by the end of the day, so don't worry your pink little head. Nice hair, by the way."

Get up, pay the bartending droid. Walk away.

Atton follows. "Who ruined your sparkling mood?"

"_No one_ calls me 'beautiful' and gets away with it."

Atton

Liran's demonstration in the cantina worries me a bit.

Luxa tried the same tricks I use to keep her off my back. Apparently they won't work if Liran drops her apathetic attitude towards everything that doesn't want her dead.

_And you thought you were being so smooth._

Sarcasm is uncalled for.

_But not undeserved._

Shut it. We'll just have to be careful. And get ready to run if she asks too many questions.

"Having doubts, Jailbird?" She looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to kill... oh, I'm not sure how many people. And now you're looking all sulky."

"Why are we doing that again?"

"If you're asking about my lack of the Jedi respect for life, they're Exchange. Slave trafficking, spice dealing, backstabbing _shabuirs_. Who want to kill me. Might as well take the fight to them. Besides, the respect for life thing only lasts as long as the council doesn't have to get out of their chairs."

True. "I meant, why are we _bothering_ to do this?"

"The Ithorians. They have a shuttle. We need the shuttle. Put Habat in debt to us, and he'll loan us the shuttle." She enunciates the words clearly, like I'm dense. "Why else? Telos is probably finished, no matter how much they try."

Agreed. The Republic is pouring more credits into the universe's only spherical bomb crater than they have.

"Ready to assassinate a crime lord?" Now she's cheery, casually turning her head to keep the security cameras from seeing her face. "This should be fun."

"You have a skewed version of 'fun'."

"What can I say? Being raised alongside Darth Revan probably affected my brain in some obscure, happiness-encroaching way." Her smile fades at 'Revan', and after that, she sounds almost serious.

"Look, this could get us in a lot of trouble with the Exchange."

"They're already trying to kill me. And if you're worried about _your_ safety, they already know you travel with me."

No more Nar Shaddaa, obviously. Frag.

"Don't worry," she looks at me with less irritation than usual. This must be her version of a reassuring glance. "I plan on taking care of the bounty."

Not sure how she plans to beat the Exchange. Then again, she's taking them on today.

"Where is this... Bumani Exchange Corporation?"

Take the lead. "Should be just a few minutes."

"You have your blasters, right?"

"Of course. Don't go anywhere without them."

Silence for a moment. "Well, at least I'm not ruining your peaceful life."

"Peaceful isn't the word. Really, the only difference is, now someone's trying to kill me every day, instead of _almost _every day. It's... liberating."

"Not funny, Atton. I've really screwed up things for you and Kreia. Painted targets on your backs." She sounds guilty, never expected that from a Jedi, even an exiled one.

For some reason, it bothers me. "Have you looked at the crone? She's going to shrivel up any minute. Maybe faster if you pour water on her. You aren't shortening her lifespan much. If anything, the exercise will do her wonders."

She snorts. "You always know the right thing to say."

"I have good timing. So, Fearless Leader, what's the plan?"

"Get in. Try to look thuggish. Find Slusk. Kill anyone who tries to stop us. Kill Slusk. Kill Luxa when she shows up and double-crosses us. Leave power vacuum. Walk away. Kill anyone who tries to stop us. Celebrate with dried fruit and Ithorian tea."

_I like this one. She's violent._

She's going to give me gray hair.

Liran

"What is your business here?" The Rodian guard puts one hand on his holstered blaster. Atton responds in kind.

Ignore them. "Luxa sent me. For Slusk."

The Rodian backs down. "It's your head." He keys the door open and runs away.

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this."

"Would you stop _saying_ that?"

Walk inside.

"Hello. Do you have an appointment?" The secretary smiles at us, keeps one hand under her desk.

Well, Kreia wanted me to practice manipulation.

"Yes. You will let us inside." Try to infuse my words with something irresistible, like Luxa's pheromones.

Her eyes glaze over for a second. "You have an appointment. I will..."

She freezes for a moment, then slams her hand over a button on her desk, pulling a blaster out with the one under her desk. "Intruders! Lock down the-"

Atton pulls his blasters, shoots the console on the secretary's desk, then puts one shot in her firing wrist.

She yelps and drops her weapon, runs past us, out the Exchange headquarters. An alarm blares, lights flash, and the exit door closes.

"Well, so much for subtlety." Maybe I do need a little brushing up on my persuasion skills.

Atton sighs. "I'm never going to be able to show my face on Nar Shaddaa after this."

Atton

Liran casually yanks her blade out of a Gamorrean's spine, sliding to the side so it won't crush her as it falls. The blank look on her face doesn't change, even when she dodges a swinging axe and sinks the Sith war sword into her attacker's hand.

The Gamorrean squeals and raises the axe again.

Pour three shots into it's back. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe we should have brought the crone." Raise my voice just enough for her to hear across the room. "She could have squeezed the secretary's brain."

"Right. I'll leave the scheming puppet master stuff to her from now on." Liran frowns, digs the double-blade into yet another pig. How many of these things are around here?

_Speaking of the receptionist-_

You don't have to kill _every_ person we meet. Shut up and shoot some Gamorreans.

Turn, mow down three more with head shots before they get close enough to use those axes.

_They're so _slow_._

"Forget this. Liran, hit the deck."

She crouches, rolls away from a descending axe.

Once she's down, I just coat the room in blasterfire and take out anything that moves.

After a few seconds of silence, Liran stands, dusts herself off, wipes blood off the Sith war sword with a rag. "Ah, the 'spray and pray' maneuver."

"It's a classic." Wave the blasters, try to cool them down. "I was tired of aiming."

"You got _bored_?" Now she's relaxed enough for the standard post-battle sarcastic chatter.

"I have a short attention span. Can you sense Slusk?"

Liran blinks, looks like she never even considered using the Force to find him.

"He's... that way." She points. "I think. Maybe. There's a lot going on over there."

Her lack of confidence is not inspiring.

"Ok, I'll take point." The more faith I show in Liran's abilities, the more faith she'll have in them. Basic psychology. And I, of all people, know how valuable instincts are.

We move to the next room. Empty.

Jaq is on high alert, tense and sharp and anticipating a lot of blood. In other words, he's happy. To each their own.

Several more rooms, only a few Gamorrean guards. They're slow enough that I can take them out before anyone even raises an axe.

"How can they get away with having this many thugs and still pretend to be a normal business?" Liran grips her double-blade tightly. She's branching out her senses, looking for enemies, occasionally brushing against my mind. Jaq tightens his guard each time, but doesn't complain. It's a nice change to have the Jedi radar on _our_ side.

"Grenn is an idiot. Case in point: Us."

"True. If you see Slusk, don't shoot him unless you have to."

"You think you can cut a deal with him?"

"Once we're finished with his minions, he might be in a negotiating mood." She smiles in an odd way, lips stretching sideways more than up, showing her canines.

Jaq tries to grin back. Shut him down.

Oh, yeah, I've seen that one in the mirror plenty of times. Before getting started on a fresh prisoner.

I don't envy Slusk.

Kreia

The Exile is in battle. She never informed me.

She does not trust me, or confide in me. Yet.

At least she took the fool. Rushing into such things alone is not a good idea. And, at this time, he is more proficient than her in combat.

Send more Force through our bond, give her strength. She tenses, then dismisses it, believing it to be adrenaline.

It flows through her, the wound soaks it in.

The Force should be radiating around her form, as it is with all life forms.

It isn't. It's gathered around the wound, and coursing through her Force bonds, back to me and to the fool. Feel a new strength in myself, direct it back to her.

I don't need her assistance. _She_ needs _mine_.

Liran

I'm getting closer to the cluster of sentients. Some of them have the dull, gel-like feel of Gamorreans, but most are sharper and more defined.

Atton doesn't question my directions, for once. No smart comments about Jedi voodoo either. Good. I have little enough trust in it myself.

The Force isn't dependable. It could pull out and leave me hanging at any time, like it did at Malachor. And now I'm _relying_ on it?

Stop thinking about it.

Stop. They're in the next room. "Atton, have any grenades?"

"Of course. What consistency do you like for your corpses? Charred, jellied, shredded, pulverized, or just plain _gone_?"

I can't believe I'm getting used to his particular brand of gallows humor, but it doesn't make me nauseous like it would have a week ago. "Whichever you prefer is good with me, as long as they don't try to kill us when you're done."

He holsters his blasters, starts juggling a trio of frag grenades. "Awaiting you directions, Fearless Leader."

"I'll warn you."

Move to one side, out of view for when it opens. Atton moves to the other, holds the grenades too lightly for my comfort.

Concentrate on the door controls, get ready.

A wave of power crashes into me, dizzying for one second before the galaxy seems to sharpen around me. For one second, I can sense the individual life forms of every sentient on Citadel, hear all their heartbeats, before I can control it and focus.

I laugh. It's almost as good a feeling as when I first felt the Force again on Peragus.

It's almost like a spice high.

Atton stares at me. "You okay?"

I'm grinning like an idiot. Focus on the door again. Twitch my fingers.

_Open._

"Now."

Atton

_Pop... Pop... Pop_.

I'm already ducked in the doorway by the time the grenades go off. Bright flashes of light, a few shards of metal flying by .Note to self: Never go anywhere without a grenade belt.

Liran is still smiling like a happy drunk. It's a little scary.

Smoke pours out of the room, thick and grey.

"Wait for it to clear a little. Just in case." Poke one blaster around the doorway.

"Allow me." Liran makes a waving motion with one hand, and the smoke parts. "The Force can be quite handy, when it's in a cooperative mood."

_Kind of like her._

I can't believe I'm agreeing with you again.

"One hostile remaining." Liran taps one end of her double-blade on the floor. "He's setting up an ambush." She sounds like a... General.

"Cover me." She slips into the room.

The surviving Exchange thug fires a few wild shots before his blaster is ripped from his hand by an invisible force. Or should I say _F_orce?

Bad pun, I know. But where is all this coming from?

Liran points her sword at him, right at the tip of his nose. "Name?"

He looks at the weapon for a moment, surprisingly composed. "Benok." He looks a little scorched and nicked from the grenades, but not too injured.

"Atton, check the door."

Run in, look at the other door in the room. "It's sealed."

She looks back at him. "I have two questions for you, Benok. Please answer concisely. Ready?"

He nods, still cross-eyed.

"Good. One: Do you want to continue living? Two: Would you be a gentleman and unlock that door for me?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As it turns out, Benok _is_ a gentleman. Or, he's willing to be one for a charming lady like Liran. The sealed door to Slusk's office is unlocked in seconds.

"Thank you, Benok. I'll be sure to mention your cooperation to Luxa." Liran watches him limp away.

She looks at the door, waiting to be opened. "He's alone." She closes her eyes, stays quiet for a moment. "Droids."

_How could she know that?_

There must be a few Force techniques we aren't familiar with. Maybe the hag taught it to her.

"Ion grenades?" She moves to one side of the door, just like last time.

"Got it. Are they standing close enough for just one?"

She thinks. Nods. Puts her hand over the door controls, looks at me.

It opens, roll the grenade in.

A flash, a crackling sound, then four little explosions, the droids' circuits overloading.

She walks in calmly. "Slusk."

A Quarren pops his head above the office's desk, blaster pointed her way. Liran raises one hand, the weapon flies to her empty palm.

She stares at it for a moment, as if she didn't expect the blaster to actually come to her.

"Hello." She studies the gun, then tosses it to the side. "My name is Liran Ericho. You might know me better as the Jedi Exile, or the Butcher of Malachor. Call me either and I'll rip your tentacles off. I have a proposition for you."

Liran switches between the uptight grump, the businesslike General, and... something else with alarming frequency. I'm not sure which of her moods this is, but any one of them would be happy to yank the Quarren's face... whatever they are... out.

I'm sure Jaq approves.

_Uh huh._

"I'm listening." It takes me a minute to translate the squishy sounds coming from Slusk. Liran doesn't seem to have much trouble.

"Your faithful employee, Luxa, sent me to kill you."

He doesn't look surprised, but, then again, look at him. For all I know, he's had a stroke from shock. But I doubt it. This kind of thing is practically expected from Exchange members.

She keeps going. "You see, backstabbing is a pet peeve of mine. So I'm giving you a chance to offer me a better deal."

Slusk looks around his office, maybe seeing if there's a droid sitting in the corner and has a chance of escaping this room alive.

Nope. Just the pair smoking on the floor. And the also roasted turrets mounted on either side of his desk. Sorry, Squid-head.

"What do you want?"

"A shuttle."

Finally he starts squirming. "I don't have one."

"Tough. Get me one."

"I can't, without alerting the TSF."

Liran stares at him, taps one foot, drums her fingers on her sword hilt.

"Hate to interrupt, but I have a busy schedule, and your chatting is holding me up."

Frag. I'd know that slimy voice anywhere.

**I am quite aware that my Exile is a wimp. That will change soon. **

**She's supposed to have done nothing for nine years, then gone right back to flinging swords around. If not for the Force, the Exile probably would have dropped dead.**


	15. A Little Force Choking

**Sorry for the delay. Editing (blech) took longer than expected.**

Atton

"Ah, Luxa." Slusk stands, dusts himself off. "How nice of you to join us." Now he has _two _heavily armed, slightly crazy women staring at him, since Liran doesn't even glance the Zeltron's way.

It's hard to look nervous without really having a face, but he manages.

"I don't think I'll be needing your help, Jedi. But I _will_ be needing your head. It's worth a lot of credits."

Great. I thought she would at least wait until after we killed Slusk.

"Give me a reason to not kill you," Liran says flatly to the Quarren. She's still ignoring Luxa, and I'm not turning.

_Hostile behind you._

Don't turn to look at her.

_What are you doing? Turn. Now._

Nope.

_Why not?_

Don't feel like it.

He growls. Nothing bothers Jaq like going against survivor's instinct.

_Do you know how juvenile you're being?_

Look, if she were a threat, Liran would have turned.

_After you know all the tricks to get around it, you trust Jedi Radar? _

Not a Jedi. If the Butcher of Malachor survived for nine years on the 'Rim, she's not as rusty as she looks.

_Maybe she isn't turning because she thinks you've got her back._

Like I said, if she survived on the 'Rim, she knows better than to trust us.

Besides, I've always wanted to see an Exchange boss squirm. I'm not taking my eyes off that scene.

Slusk is busy begging for his life. "I... I have more power. It would take time for Luxa to establish her position. She will turn you in to Goto. She-"

"Shut it, Squid." A strange, buzzing behind me.

Liran sighs, turns. I do the same. My vision blurs a bit once I breath the air closer to the Zeltron, but she's too far away to seriously affect us.

_Finally._

Luxa is backed by her ever present pair of Gamorreans. She's posed dramatically, one gloved hand on her hip, the other clutching an exchange negotiator, in a way that shows the most menace possible (And cleavage, but that's entirely besides the point).

Liran does not look impressed. "Oh, _you're_ going to try to kill me too?"

"Try?" Luxa smirks again, flicking the negotiator between her fingers. Her gloves must be shock-resistant. Those things pack a nasty bite.

"Well," Liran holds the Sith war sword out. "Don't just stand there looking slutty. Let's get this over with. Atton, leave her to me."

Put two head shots in the Gamorreans. They fall without a sound, leaving one Zeltron versus one non-Jedi.

The pheromone haze doubles, Liran looks confused for a second before shaking it off.

She only takes one step forward before Luxa throws the negotiator.

She dodges, but the electrified knife grazes her right shoulder with a hissing sound.

"Fierfek!" Her arm spasms, she drops her sword.

Another trademark grin as the Zeltron reaches for the other knife on her belt.

It disappears when she's slammed against the bulkhead with a loud _crack._

Liran stands there, one arm hanging limp, paralyzed by the stun shock, her left hand palm out, spread wide in Luxa's direction. The Exchange woman looks shocked, pinned to the wall.

Liran wears one of those Jaq-like smiles again. "I cheat. I'm a schutta like that." Her hand jerks up.

Luxa lifts a few feet, her feet dangling. She looks scared now. "Jedi don't-"

Liran's hand curls into a loose C. "Jedi don't _what_?"

She gags. "Jedi don't... use the Force to hurt people." The dizzying pheromones dissipate as she speaks.

"I could tell you how many ways that statement is flawed, but I'm not a Jedi, so it isn't even applicable." Liran drops her hand, and Luxa falls right on her _shebs_.

She turns back to Slusk. I keep my aim on the Zeltron, but she's busy pulling in deep lung-fulls of air and rubbing her neck.

"Well done, Jedi." The Quarren bobs his head.

"Don't call me Jedi. Sit down, shut up, and listen." She rubs her arm, looking more irritated at the inconvenience than anything else.

Slusk obeys with more speed than I thought possible for a Squid-head.

"I'm inclined to kill you both, but that would attract so much attention. None of us can afford the TSF hearing about this." She gives up trying to make her arm work. "So, you give me what I want, I leave and we pretend this never happened."

"I don't have a shuttle," Slusk whines.

"Just leave the Ithorians alone." Suddenly, she looks tired.

"And credits. We'll take some of those too." I pick up Liran's sword and strap it to her back. She ignores me and keeps staring at Slusk.

"Agreed."

Luxa opens her mouth to protest.

"Not a word." Point my blaster at her again. "You're getting off easier than I'd like."

Jaq wants me to kill her. It's not expressed in words, more like a wave of malevolence directed at the Zeltron. But I can calm him down this time. Slusk won't let her live long enough to try for his spot again.

Liran

I am tired.

Whatever caused the burst of Force, it's gone now. I feel burnt out and hazy. Everything is blurry compared to the clarity I had for a short time.

"Angel? You alright?"

Blink, stop walking. We're on our way back to the abandoned apartment, even though I wanted to go straight to the Ithorians and get this all over with.

But Atton argued for going back first, so Kreia could take care of my shoulder. And by argued, I mean he threatened to conk me on the head and drag me back. And attract plenty of TSF attention while he was at it.

One of these days I'm going to call him out on that threat.

"I'm fine." Start walking again.

"Do you know how long it took for you to answer?"

The most eloquent response I can think of right now is an irritable grunt.

"Come on. After haggling with an Exchange boss over credits, you can do better." He jingles the bag of credits, more than two thousand.

"Piss off."

"That's the spirit." Atton's voice has a forced cheeriness that does _not_ suit him. "Can you feel your arm?"

"No."

"You're lucky the knife didn't stick. She could have scrambled your nervous system so bad you couldn't walk. Or killed you."

"You're quite the beam of sunshine." Coming off an adrenaline high is a lot worse than I remembered. The depression, soreness... One thing I don't miss about war.

"Yes, we're a sparkly rainbow together, showering happiness and joy over everyone we meet."

"And blasterfire." I packed the cut pretty tight, but it slips a little. A tickling stream of blood runs down my back, makes me twitch. _That_ sets off the burning pain. Bite down on the words I feel like saying, all that comes out is a low hiss.

Atton shuts up. On occasion, he shows remarkable self-preservation instincts.

Fortunately, the apartment isn't too far away, and Kreia stands when we come in.

"Sit, Exile."

Walk past her, unsling my pack and blade, and flop on the bed, face down. "I am so out of shape."

Kreia gives one of her long-suffering sighs and sits beside me. "_You_ may leave now."

"You know, that dismissal was so subtle, I had to use _both_ my brain cells to catch it." Hear Atton's footsteps move back towards the door. "Sleep tight, Angel. Don't let the biddy bite."

It slides open, then shut.

The room's temperature drops at least ten degrees, Kreia's waves of hatred ricocheting around me. "Fool."

Atton

Since the witch has banished me for Force knows how long, I should see about that shuttle for Liran.

It doesn't take long to reach the Ithorian compound. Hunting down Chodo Habat isn't too hard either.

"You came on behalf of Miss Ilexe?" He blinks huge black eyes at me.

"Yeah. She's... unwell."

"I hope she feels well again soon. How may I help you?"

"Heard you were having trouble with the Exchange."

"Yes." The hammerhead sighs. Those things sure are mopey. "They terrorize us."

"Not anymore. We took care of it."

His eyestalks droop. "Was there... violence?"

I think it's obvious, since we're talking about the Exchange. "That's how Liran got hurt."

"I am sorry. We did not ask her to-"

"A thug attacked her with a negotiator. There's probably nerve damage." Put on my most worried face. "She was bleeding a lot. I had to carry her out of there."

In polite society, guilt-tripping the Ithorians out of a shuttle would probably make me a 'bad person'. Then again, by much more ethically ambiguous standards, I'm already going to the deepest of the Nine Corellian Hells, so who cares?

Habat makes a sound reminiscent of a dying nerf. "Ilexe should not have done such a thing for us."

"Well, she did."

He fidgets, dances from one foot to the other.

"Is there any way we can help?" Moza steps in, since Habat is having a remorseful seizure.

"Liran needs to borrow a shuttle. Someone stole our ship, and she thinks they took it to the restoration zone."

The Ithorians exchange a quick look.

"We would be happy to help Ilexe, but we do not have access to the restoration zone right now."

Oh, great."Why not?"

"Czerka has shut us out."

"How?" I smell another quest.

"Through legal loopholes and shady business dealings." Habat smoothly straps into his torture rack again. "Only they can send shuttles down right now."

I have two options. One involves repeatedly smacking my forehead into a wall. I pick the other.

"If you will excuse me, I have an appointment with a drunk."

Kreia

The Exile sleeps, curled up on the single bed. Her wound no longer bothers me, healing it was not too difficult. She is still too weak to absorb so much Force. The amount I gave her today exhausted her.

The fool is moving quickly throughout Citadel, a sliver of metal among the soft, weak minds of other sentients. Once again, he proved useful.

I suppose the Exile could continue to use him. We shall see.

Atton

"Falt, old buddy. How are you?" Sit across from him.

The Czerka employee jerks to attention, sees me, then goes back to his drink. "No more pazaak."

"That's not why I'm here. You hate your boss, right?"

"Lorso has her fingers in so many dirty- look, I can't talk about it. I'll lose my job."

He's not as drunk this time. Yesterday he wouldn't shut up about her. "If I wanted to put Jana Lorso in prison... would there be anything useful in the Czerka mainframe?"

"Possibly. Why?"

"I need dirt on her."

"What kind? There's at least twenty varieties in there." He laughs.

"I'd like to make the selection myself."

He sets down his glass, looks at me. "Are you asking..."

"Could I crack it from the outside, or is it a closed system?"

"You're a hacker." He stares, looks shocked. Apparently, Falt is slow on the uptake, toasted or not.

"Ye-es. Is it closed?"

"Yeah. Nobody can access it without going on the one console. It's inconvenient, but that's how she's kept the records from the TSF."

This is going to be fun. "Where is the console?"

"Have you been in there to see Lorso?"

"Yeah."

"That door, off to the side. That's where the mainframe center is."

Lean back in my chair, think a bit. "Do you have access to the mainframe?"

Falt almost drops his juma. "No way. Even if I did-"

That would be a no, then. "Thanks Falt." Stand.

"You're insane." He's still caught up in the hacker thing.

"I know. The disembodied voice in my head tells me that at least once a day."

_Honesty might not be the best policy, but sometimes it's worth it to see their faces._

Liran

When I wake, Kreia is meditating on the floor.

"How long have I been out?" Push myself upright. No pain. Look, the skin on my shoulder is smooth, no scarring. Then again, the wound wasn't that bad. It's the electric current that does damage.

"Several hours."

I'm still wearing boots, but my armor plate is propped against the wall. Grab it and strap in. "Where is Atton?"

"His location is none of my concern."

Sigh.

Stretch out, look for something familiar on Citadel. Everything is still dull, but I've recovered since the Exchange incident.

Still, it only takes a minute to find him.

"Thanks for the patch up."

She ignores me.

Sling the Sith war sword over my back, step toward the door. An unfamiliar growling noise stops me. It's a full minute before I realize it's my stomach. Grab the bag of fruit from my belt and chew as I walk.

For the first time, I pay attention to the individual thoughts, emotions, of the people around me.

Their concerns, their fears, are just as strong as mine, and no one's trying to kill _them_. Why? Don't they know how insignificant their problems are?

It's not fair. They have peace, and don't know how good it is.

Ironically, there's one person I'm not getting worry from, and it's the one tied to a death magnet. I'm not getting anything from him, just a wall of emotional static and... numbers?

Atton is staring at a wall, just a few feet from the entrance to Czerka headquarters.

"What are you doing?"

He takes a step sideways so I can join him. "The technical term is 'casing the joint'."

There's an access panel, that's what he's looking at. They send astromech droids in for repairs and inspections. A human could fit, but not comfortably.

"Why? Don't tell me they're hiding a shuttle in there."

He turns from the wall to me. "How's the shoulder?"

"Fine. Why are we breaking into Czerka?"

No answer. I've known Atton for less than a week, but I can already tell that it's a bad sign when he shuts up. Like now.

"Need I remind you of this morning?"

He rubs his nose and shrugs. "I went to see the Ithorians. They _would_ let us use a shuttle, but Czerka, the source of all evil, shut them down. They don't have access to the restoration zones, which is the only place that pasty schutta could have hidden the _Hawk_."

"Kek. We'll have to find another way down."

"Maybe not. I heard from a guy in the cantina that Lorso has dirt in the Czerka mainframe. Stuff that would get them kicked out of the restoration project."

"Even if we got this to the TSF, with all the red tape, it would take too long for the Ithorians to..."

His grin stops me. "Ever blackmailed someone before?"

"Have _you_?"

"Would I tell you if I did?"

Forget I asked. "Explain later. How do we get in?"

"_We_ don't." He steps forward, pokes at the edge of the access panel.

"Why not?" Resist the urge to grit my teeth. They're sore from the workout I've given them since Peragus.

"You can't use a SFG."

"A what?"

"Stealth field generator. And even if you could, we only have one. If somebody walks in on us while we're in the mainframe, they'd see you."

"You can teach me, and I can buy another."

Now it's his turn to grit. Wonder if my face looks that funny when I do it. "We don't have the time."

Repress the decidedly Sithish desire to break his nose again. "How are you breaking in?"

"I'm keeping it flexible."

"You mean you're going to wing it like a spiced-up mynock."

"No." He pries the access panel off the wall with his knife. Looks inside.

Glance around, no one seems to notice. How can civvies be so oblivious? "Then what is your ingenious plan?"

His voice echoes from inside the service tunnel as he crawls inside. It's bigger than the Peragus fuel line we used to escape the _Harbinger_, but not by much. "I am going to wing it like a _strong and manly_ spiced-up mynock." Hear him going further, then nothing.

A few minutes later he comes back, kneels in front of the hole in the wall, back to me.

Silence while Atton stares into the darkness. Pokes around with one arm. Goes back to staring. Then "Well, frag."

"What is it?"

He pulls out, stands. Gives me a forced smile. "Sorry, Angel. I was a little hasty. This will be a wonderful bonding experience for the two of us."

Yeah, right. "You won't fit?"

"I won't fit."

"Well, I hope all that dried fruit hasn't gone to my hips."

**Only two more chapters on Citadel. Then, we move on to cannocks, mercs, shuttle crashes, and Bao-Dur. Wheeeeeeee!**

**Comments and suggestions are welcome.**


	16. Ocean's er, Two

**Editing. Yech. So many errors, so little time.**

**The first two scenes _do_ have a purpose, even though they look like filler. I would tell you more, but... *Awful River Song impression*: "Spoilers!"**

Atton

Liran crawls ahead, a light between her teeth.

Clear my throat. "You know, I think you _have_ gained a little weight."

When she looks over one shoulder, she actually spits out the glowstick and points it at her face so I can see the complete lack of amusement.

"Force, I meant it as a compliment." Manage not to grin until Liran turns around, but it's hard.

She keeps moving, glowstick in hand. "Tell me why this cracked plan will work. There is no way Czerka is stupid enough to have a convenient hatch to the mainframe room."

"They have to. Safety regulations. And the TSF makes inspections, or else they would remove it."

"Or weld it shut. And cut it open right before each inspection."

"So negative. You have a real attitude problem, you know that?"

"I have concrete evidence that the galaxy is out to get me. Besides, _you're_ one to talk, Jailbird."

Can't deny either point. Jaq doesn't exactly inspire positive thoughts. "Are you almost there?"

"Getting claustrophobic, Atton?"

It's stuffy, but I'm fine as long as we're moving. And being in the dark always makes me feel better. So much easier when the targets can't see-

Changing subject. "Oh, no. I'm pretty comfortable in tight, dark places. Not like they're ever infested with man-eating creatures. Not like bad things happen in them _all the time_." And not like it makes Jaq go silent and disappear. Worries me when I don't know what he's doing.

Silence for a moment. "You _are_ claustrophobic." Her voice is almost too quiet to hear.

"I'm fine. I... just like having space to run if I have to." My fingers are all prickly and I want my knife. Jaq can take on almost anything the galaxy could throw his way, but in a spot this tight, he doesn't have much of an advantage.

She stops moving again and looks back, but leaves the glowstick where it is, so all I can see is her outline. "We're here."

Feels like I've been in here an hour, but it's only been a couple of minutes.

Move up beside her, take the glowstick. Both make the situation seem even more cramped. Reach into my boot. Holding my knife again, and seeing Liran's cold, thin face, makes me feel a little better. There are advantages to not working alone.

"If this is an emergency exit, why is it too small for you to fit through?" She ignores my twitchiness.

"It's not. An alarm will go off if the hatch opens. You have to shut it down."

"I fail to see why you can't do it yourself."

"You have to do it by hand." Point the glowstick at a hole in the bulkhead, where I popped the control panel off. "The mechanism is in there. Too small for me." Search for Jaq. Nothing. Where _is_ he?

She looks inside, then at her hand. "Well, frag."

Liran

"Why would any idiot make the hole this small? How could maintenance fix anything?" The edges are smooth, but it's painful anyway. Turn my wrist. A Kaminoan couldn't stick their fingers in this.

Nothing doing. My hand won't fit.

He grabs my wrist. "A 'roid." Atton talks around the glowstick (I had it in my mouth just a few minutes ago, but that doesn't seem to bother him), since both his hands are occupied, bending my thumb out of the way and trying to force my whole hand in, like it would make a difference.

"This isn't working. How would I get my hand out if I could get it in anyway?"

He actually stops battling physics and looks at me, blinking. His eyes are glazed over a little, like someone who isn't thinking straight. He's been getting more worked up by the minute.

Sigh. "Would your knife go through the metal?"

Blink. Atton drops my hand, passes me the glowstick, picks up the weapon. "The noise-"

"We'll have to risk it. Calm down. We'll be out soon."

He stares at the dagger for a moment, then jabs it at the panel. "I am _not_ claustrophobic." He saws at the metal. It shrieks, but the knife goes through. "But the odds aren't in our favor if someone attacks us in here."

"I doubt a mutated womp rat is roaming the service tunnels, seeking to devour us."

"I was thinking more along the line of inept Sith assassins in dorky goggles."

"I don't think there's enough oxygen in here to support anyone else." Scoot back, give him room. "We'd all drop from asphyxiation before he touched us."

"Thank you, Angel. That's very comforting." Atton looks a little calmer, either from the added space, actually making progress, or my talking.

"Well, I had to return the favor. Since you've been so supportive."

"Yeah, you're a real sweetheart." He grabs the ring of metal before it hits the floor, then sticks his hand in the bigger hole.

A few moments later, a hatch in the wall across from me hisses open.

"It's that easy?"

"I was letting _you_ do it."

Of course. The moment we start getting along, he says something that makes me wish I had a lightsaber to scorch him with.

I don't even have my Sith sword. Doesn't feel right to not have a weapon on me.

Atton, ever the gentleman, scrambles out before I even move. Follow.

"This should be the mainframe." Completely calm. Just a minute ago he was halfway to a panic attack.

"How long do you need?"

He touches the computer controls. "50 credits says I'm out in less than five minutes."

"I don't have 50 credits, and I would never bet with you. About anything."

"Smart."

Move to one side of the _legitimate_ door. If anyone comes in, I want a good stab at them before they alert the TSF.

Well, I'm unarmed, so a good punch. Need to find something smaller to carry around, maybe a weapon I can hide, like Atton's knife.

The door slides open.

Fierfek.

Atton

The door slides open. I keep working on the mainframe, but can't help look over my shoulder.

An astromech.

The door closes behind it, the trash compacter rolls up to me and whistles.

"Liran..."

"He's using the mainframe." She ignores me and talks to the droid.

More beeping.

Almost done.

"Of course we're authorized. How else would we have gotten in here?"

It shrills at her again, bobbing it's head.

Liran thumbs the door controls. Hear the lock engage. "You can check our authorization after we're done."

This time it's a somehow aggressive shriek.

The little hatch on it's flat head opens, and a blaster attachment pops out.

A blaster? Really?

Liran just lifts her hand, then presses down on the air, using the Force to slam the hatch closed, shoving it's blaster back inside the droid.

"Dwooooooooo."

She looks at the machine with interest.

Well, it's under control. Finish my hacking and start a download of all Czerka's files on the restoration

project.

"Who outfitted you with weapons?" Liran keeps her hand in the air.

"_Spppprrrraaat_!" I don't know if that was hostility or a malfunction. I'd suggest spreading the piece of junk across the room and figuring it out later.

_If you shoot it, someone might hear._

Nice of you to join the party.

_Aw, you _missed_ me._

Shut it.

"Fine. Don't you have a pacifist program?"

Hear the machine whirring, maybe it's processing her question.

"Thought so. So why do you have weapons? And how did you break your programming?"

More thinking noises.

"If you can harm sentient life, then you can ignore your other protocols. Like the one that means you alert the guards if you detect an unauthorized access of the mainframe."

"_Whoo-up_?" Sounds like a question. Probably; 'Why should I help you?'

"Because of us, you know you're free to do what you want. You _owe_ me."

I doubt the astromech has the capacity to understand such a concept.

"And I can crush you."

It does get the threat, though. And even trash cans have self-preservation instincts.

The droid rolls to one corner, optic light dimming. It's shutting down.

"Almost finished?" She walks over, pats the droid like it's a pet.

"Done." Pull the datapad out, check it. "Ready to go."

Liran

We couldn't get out of that tunnel fast enough. Atton replaces the panel casually.

Grab my pack, which hasn't been touched. Thankfully. "So, can we use it?" If we went through all this trouble and the dirt isn't there, _somebody_ is going to bleed.

We start walking.

Atton scrolls through great chunks of text on the datapad. "Plenty. They were scavenging the abandoned structures for valuable metals and selling it. Not very ethical." He pokes at the screen. "Ooh, bribery. My favorite. Do you know how many credits a certain Republic senator would 'donate' to the reputable Grumpy Ex-Jedi Foundation?"

"Almost as much as he would pay an assassin to knock on my door. Don't even think about it. How long would it take for you to duplicate the info?"

"Less time than it took me to harvest it from the mainframe."

"I want three copies. No, four."

"Aye aye, General." Don't have to look to know he's doing the sarcastic salute.

Almost off Citadel. By now, I'd almost welcome a Sith attack. Not knowing where Dry-Rot and his goggled minions are bothers me.

I should ask Kreia about him. Maybe she'll know something useful.

Kreia. Maybe I should speak to her more often. She _is_ offering her experience, which, judging by her age, is vast.

"It won't take long for them to figure out what happened. We should wait a few hours. Let Lorso stew for a while about what could happen if this info got out."

Sigh. Now that escape is in sight, I'd rather get this all over with.

Still, T3 and the _Ebon Hawk_ are worth it. I wouldn't mind the astromech's company after this is all over (If I'm still _alive_ when this is all over), and there's something familiar about that ship...

Ah, I'll look into it after we get her back.

Kreia

The Exile approaches, her mood much improved. She expects to leave Citadel soon.

_Finally_. We have already wasted too much time here.

"Kreia?" The door opens. "If all goes to plan, we should have a shuttle in just a few hours."

As if I cannot sense this already.

The fool says nothing, for once.

"Excellent. Join me."

"You mean... meditating?" She unstraps her armor plates.

"Yes. If you wish to survive, you must strengthen your connection to the Force."

A flash of irritation before she nods and sits across from me.

"Center yourself."

"You want her to _what_?"

She turns. "Shut up, Atton."

"Ignore distractions."

"So now I'm a distraction? That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me, Kreia."

"I said, shut up."

"_Silence_."

The Exile closes her eyes.

Wait until she is ready, then funnel more energy into the wound.

I do not have enough. She will have to gather more Force-Sensitives, and gain more control over her abilities, before I take the next step.

Her mental state shows promise, but she felt, to some extent, obligated to assist the weak Ithorians, even though she justified the waste of effort with deliberate selfishness.

She could have taken what she wanted. But one problem at a time.

This will take longer than I thought. But the Exile also has far more potential, far more _reach_ than I anticipated. The more we travel, the more she will connect, the more she will tangle in her web of bonds, the more power she will draw from them.

And more I can use for my purpose.

Liran

The first thing I do when I open my eyes is check my chrono. It's been three hours.

That's what I hate about meditation. You lose touch with everything, except the Force, which is one thing I'm not sure I _want_ to be in touch with. It's useful in combat, and nothing is quite like sensing the life around me, but I depended on it. And then it wasn't there.

That won't happen again. If the Force disappears again, I'll be ready. Not like after Malachor.

Look around the apartment. Kreia is already back to meditating. How can she stand to be disconnected from reality for so long?

Atton is sitting against the wall, asleep.

Walk over, poke him. "Do you think three hours is long enough?"

He opens one eye and looks at me irritably. "Ye-es."

Turn, get back into my armor. A lot of soldiers in the war complained about the uncomfortable chest plates, but they never bothered me. Possibly because whenever I put them on, I imagined the Jedi council having heart palpitations at one of their minions not in proper dress.

Ah, the memories.

"Ready to meet Jana Lorso? She's kind of like Luxa. Except she doesn't do her own dirty work."

Can't help but sigh. "At least she won't stick an exchange negotiator in me."

"No, she'll hire some meathead to do it for her."

"You mean mercenaries? Like how she hired you to-"

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"I don't forgive easily." Sling the Sith sword over my back.

"Very Jedi-like. So how long would you hold onto something big? Ten years?"

For one moment, I think he knows what I'm thinking about, but that's impossible. Only three people were there that day. One of them's dead, one is me, and one is, I hear, gallivanting about the Unknown Regions while the galaxy crumbles.

Lucky for Revan, he's out of my reach, and Malak is beyond it, not that he'd be anything more than a consolation prize.

"Angel? Planning somebody's death?"

Shake the anger off, head for the door. "Who cares about revenge? Too much bother. I'd rather get back to my life, thank you. Leave all that vindictive stuff to the Sith. Besides, what gave you that idea?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. You just looked like you were plotting."

Looks like the Force bond between Atton and me is strong enough for him to unconsciously sense basic thoughts.

Wonderful. As if Kreia in my head wasn't enough.

Atton

Entering Czerka through the front door is much less stressful than the back way.

"Do you have an appointment with Miss Lorso?" That would be the protocol droid.

Maybe I could have taken this thing and used it to get in the mainframe. Liran has experience with droids, she could have rigged it to bring us the info.

Probably shouldn't mention this to her after the hand incident.

"We're employees. Ilexe."

It checks on the comp. "You do not have an appointment."

"We have a message for Lorso."

"You do not have an appointment. Would you like to schedule an appointment."

"But-"

"You do not have an appointment. Would you like to-"

Liran reaches over the desk and yanks something off the droid's neck.

"-schedule aaaaaaaann..." It powers down.

She wipes oil off her fingers. "I despise protocol droids. All they do is say 'please' and 'thank you' in a thousand languages."

"I get it. They're your complete opposite."

This earns me a twitch of the eyebrows and subtle glare. "_Thank you_ for calling me useful. If that's what you just did."

_Hm. I expected at least a threat of dismemberment._

Kind of disappointing.

"_Please_ open the door."

Press the button I saw the droid use last time I came here. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"What?"

"Negotiating with Lorso."

"So now we're calling it 'negotiating'." Liran reaches over her shoulder and touches the end of her sword. She does that a lot, sometimes reaching for her belt first, then seeming to remember nothing's there.

"Blackmailing. Offer still stands." I can tell this is Jaq's idea, has his bloody fingerprints all over it, but, since I'm still trying to gauge how much of General Ericho is left in that dry, pasty ex-Jedi, I'll agree with him.

That's been happening more and more lately. Not sure if he's gaining more control, or could it have something to do with Liran?

_Perhaps the cracks in the mirror are binding together again._

Stop being all cryptic/poetic. You sound like Kreia.

The thought repulses him. Good. The manipulative old-

"Fine. I'll do it." Liran gives me that suspicious look, like she knows Jaq and I are studying her for weaknesses.

Makes me feel like she's caught me doing something wrong, but that's ridiculous. I'm not the one looking to exploit them if it ever comes to a fight.

Okay, maybe I will use it if she tries to take my head off. But not before than. Or for _any other reasons._ Got that, psycho?

Jaq answers with a suspect lack of interest. _You run the show._

Liran walks into the office, follow her.

_For now_.

I hate it when you do that. One day without ominous creepy statements, please?

_Not like I have anything else to entertain myself with. Now be quiet and pay attention. Maybe we'll learn something._

**Only one more chapter on Citadel! I swear, that place is like Darth Nihilus. Sucks the life out of you.**

**Lui: Thanks for the advice. I have definitely been rushing with the structure. I'll work on it. And make Kreia sound more... er, Machiavellian?**

**It will be around a month until my next chapter. Schoolwork *shudder*. Also I need some time to write ahead. When I come back, I should be on time with updates.**

**So if you have any more requests, you might want to pitch them now (I will bring the Handmaiden. She kicks _shebs_).**

**Thanks for all the reviews.**


	17. Flashback: Insubordinate

**A little backstory scene. I'll be putting these up on occasion. Feedback would be appreciated **

**This one is for Liran, from the POV of everybody's favorite control freak.**

Revan

"It's a waste of resources! We _need_ those soldiers."

Liran ignores me. She stares out the viewport, down at Eres III, it's surface glowing with fire. The Mandalorians set the plains ablaze.

Who knows how long it will be until they die down. Decades, perhaps.

"General Ericho, you disobeyed my orders."

"Don't 'General Ericho' me." Her spine is straight, but not stiff, shoulders set, voice hot and angry.

After the attack ended, one soldier requested permission to make surface contact to find his sister. A lot of civvies went missing in the chaos.

I denied the request, of course. We don't have the men to mount a recovery operation. There was a scene, Liran broke it up, made a ship wide announcement, and allowed any willing soldiers to shuttle to the surface, to find their families.

Alek's jaw practically hit the deck. _Nobody_ disobeys my orders.

But Liran is different.

"They have two hours to search. Then you'll have them back." She still doesn't turn. Anyone else, I would think they couldn't look me in the eye.

But Liran is different.

"General Ericho-"

She swivels on one heel, arms crossed. "Yes, Commander Revan?" Her eyes are like smoke, grey and dark with heat.

Sometimes, being near Liran makes me dizzy. Her... abilities, combined with passion unsuppressed by the Order's constant scolding (Vrook always hated her for that), envelopes those around her, draws them in.

It's my secret weapon, as long as I take care not to be snared along with everyone else.

I need her. Anyone else would be dismissed.

"This won't happen again."

She holds eye contact, gives me her sideways smile, the one that makes me wonder if she is still a servant of the light. "Is that a prophesy?"

"It's an order, General."

Waves of emotion, anger the only one I can distinguish. The smile is still there. "Yes, Sir. May I be dismissed?"

"Of course."

Liran bows her head, breaking our stare down, and walks away.

I can only breath easy once she's gone.

Summon Alek, doesn't take him long to get here.

"Problem?" He towers over me, looks down at the fires.

"We can't bring Liran."

"But... we need her to find it." Alek is confused, how could he not notice what was happening to her?

"This Star Forge is supposed to be tempting for us easily swayed lightsiders. It wouldn't be a problem except..."

"What?"

"I think she's on the edge."

He bursts out laughing. "Liran? On the path to the Dark Side? _You're_ darker than her, Rev. The woman practically has a halo."

"_Had_. She's changing. Becoming more emotional, rebellious, temperamental. We can't risk her falling. You and I can resist anything the Dark Side will throw at us, but I don't know about her."

Alek looks a me for a moment. "You aren't just leaving her out of the loop because she disobeyed an order, right?"

"I'm _not_. But she shouldn't have done it. We need those soldiers, but I can't pull them out now. Half of them would probably resign, and it would be even worse for morale then not letting them go in the first place." Fold my arms. "Did you get the name of that soldier?"

"The one looking for his sister? Why?"

"He almost started a riot. There will be consequences."

"Liran told the officers not to put it on record."

Of course she did. "Alek, I need to think for a while. Alone."

"No problem. I'm sure you'll figure it all out." He smiles, practically shatters my clavicle with a comforting pat to the shoulder, and walks away.

Sigh, lean against a bulkhead.

When we went to war, Liran was all empathy and zest for justice.

But now she feels every death, and it's poisoning her. After a heavy battle, I watch my best General, and she looks... wrong. Like her eyes and skin have been soaked in bleach.

Jedi Sentinel Liran Ericho, a Darksider? A few years ago I would have laughed. Like Alek.

Now I just wonder if she'll pull us down with her.

**In trying to locate the homeworlds of certain characters (I like to become acquainted with canon _before_ I brutally slaughter it and desecrate the remains), there is surprisingly little info. However, I found a fan rumor that a member of the Exile's party is from Eres III. Decided to use it, wherever it's from. So if it's yours...**

***Waves* Hi.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and suggestions!**


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